


He Doesn't Look a Thing Like Jesus

by Tictacboxes



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: 2006 to be exact, AU, Alternate Universe - 2000s, Alternate Universe - Les Misérables, Dirty Dancing, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 15:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15294870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tictacboxes/pseuds/Tictacboxes
Summary: Angel (Enjolras) is one listless summer away from the Peace Corps. Hoping to enjoy his youth while it lasts, he's disappointed when his summer plans deposit him at Hugo's Resort with her parents. His luck turns around, however, when the resort's dance instructor, Grantaire, enlists Enjolras as his new partner, and the two fall in love. Enjolras's father, Valjean, forbids him from seeing Grantaire, but he's determined to help Grantaire perform the last big dance of the summer.Basically, Dirty Dancing, except with Les Mis. Read if you're lowkey nostalgic for 2006 music and cheesy exR moments. Enjoy!also. i did almost title this "unsanitary bopping" but my friend dakota made me change it. so w/e. <3





	1. Chapter One

Enjolras had already accepted that the entire month of June would be a waste to him. By May, he had already been accepted to his dream college and he’d bought all the books and planned out his schedule with the school advisor and everything. It really was Cosette’s fault that he couldn’t just stay inside the whole summer and focus, or get a job and save up some more money, because she had batted her eyelashes at Valjean and he never could tell her no. 

So off they went, towards a mountain range far south called the Victor Mountains, and they were staying at a resort called Hugo’s Paradise, where Valjean claimed to know Mr. Hugo himself, and they had secured a long vacation there in the best available house, because Cosette was Cosette and she always got her way. 

Enjolras had been staring at his copy of  _ I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings  _ for the past half-hour or so, when The Iliad had gotten too poetic for him, and he had absorbed nothing. He was dimly aware of the radio playing and his mother, Fantine, talking to Valjean about all the art classes Hugo’s Paradise offered. Cosette was content to type something on her shiny, new flip-phone while she still had service. They wound up the mountains on a seemingly endless trail, and Enjolras tried not to think about how much work he could be getting done if Cosette hadn’t pulled them along. 

At the time, Enjolras hadn’t been completely opposed to the idea of a senior trip with his family. He shouldn’t have told Cosette about it in hindsight- she was kind in all she did, but she got excited way too easily. She had found Hugo’s Paradise after a brief discussion with Valjean over where his work was taking him over the summer break, and she pulled her strings and they ended up there. 

It was late afternoon by the time they arrived at the crest of the mountain, and despite the beautiful sunset Enjolras was filled with dread. Hundreds of white suburban families spread out across the wide expanse of the property, doing typical white suburban things like frisbee or picnicking or whatever. 

  People doing typical stuff like this as ‘relaxation’ seemed to be a complete waste of time. How could these people find any sort of relaxation, knowing their money and time was going to an unjust government that would only make the rich richer and the poor poorer. He wondered if they realized how quickly the middle-class was dwindling, how their American Dream would hardly be possible in ten years time.  _ If they knew how many children died every day of malnutrition, would they really care as much about what shade of real their daughters shoes was? _

  “Hey, Angel,” Cosette said, lightly touching his shoulder as they rolled up to what must have been their ‘cabin’- all white, clean wooden panels, every family’s Dream Home- and she gave him a small half-smile. “Stop scowling at everyone, you don't want to ruin your reputation on the first day.” 

  “What reputation,” Enjolras muttered, but he forced himself to relax enough to notice an older man with graying hair, and a younger version of him, standing outside the opposite window talking to Valjean. 

  “-guests, of course,” the man, who must have been Javert Hugo, the owner and Valjean’s friend and employer for the month, “and there's plenty for the kids to do around here. This house is one of our best, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. I have to go check on dinner now, make sure you come down once you're settled and I’ll show you the rest of the activities.” 

  “Of course,” Valjean smiled, putting the car in park as Javert and the boy walked away. As Enjolras got out, the boy- which Enjolras could see more clearly now, with big black curls and a constantly smiling face- waved to him and followed Javert. Enjolras watched Cosette for her reaction, but she was coolly unattached, which said enough. Fantine and Cosette began talking as soon as they got out of the car, while Valjean and Enjolras stayed quiet. He had always liked that about Valjean- silence was seldom awkward with him. He spoke when he needed to, and didn't waste the energy when he didn't need to. 

  “Hey,” said an unfamiliar voice behind him. Enjolras jumped and spun around, nearly toppling over Valjean as he heaved an unnecessary amount of luggage over his shoulder at once. 

  Enjolras blinked down at the boy who had been accompanying Javert just a moment ago as they walked down the hill. He wasn't sure how he was able to sneak up behind him like that, but the sly grin on the kid’s face made him not want to ask a lot of questions. 

  “Um,” stammered Enjolras. “Hi.” 

  “I'm Courfeyrac, but everyone calls me Courf. Javert’s my granddad and I'm staying for this season to help with hospitality and whatnot, hopefully get a few tips to help with college and all that.” 

  This kid didn't seem old enough for college, but Enjolras didn't get the chance to answer. 

  “Angel! Can you come here please?” Fantine called, and Courf’s face lit up. 

  “Your name’s  _ Angel _ ?” he asked, not bothering to hide his smirk. 

  “It's Enjolras, actually, but-”

  “Nope,” Courf cut him off. “Too long. I'm calling you Angel.” 

  Enjolras retorted, “How is that too long, your name’s  _ Courfeyrac.” _

  He just smiled cheekily. “I don't have to explain my ways. Come on, then. Let's help your mother bring in the luggage.” 

 

\---

 

Courfeyrac quickly became tolerable on Enjolras’s list once he asked, rather sleekly, about Enjolras’s political views, and listened to him as he methodically went through the very basics of each portion of his ideologies. He and Cosette had to share a room, which he didn't really mind, and Cosette and Courfeyrac ended up getting along fine. The room was plenty big enough for the two of them to have their personal space. 

She showed Courf her nail polish art and some of the clothes she made, and he nodded along and listened attentively from what Enjolras could tell. He was focused on emptying his duffle bag and frowning out the open window. 

He wasn't sure how he felt hanging out with the grandson of Javert Hugo, who lived off of underpaying staff and overpricing everything else, but Courf seemed more similar to Cosette than to his grandfather. If anything, Enjolras was grateful that Cosette would probably leave him alone most of the time in favor of talking to Courf. It meant more alone time for him to sleep and plan out how he was going to convince Valjean to let them go home early. 

Enjolras finished unpacking and neatly putting away all of his things into drawers as Cosette was pulling out her MP3, surely to show Courf some Avril Lavigne or maybe P!NK. Valjean stepped in a moment later, sporting some denim shorts, yellow polo, and polite smile. 

“We’re going to head down to the main building,” Valjean said. Cosette hopped up to join him, grabbing her bag, and he said, “Angel, I'm not going to make you go anywhere if you don't want to.”

“I'm not hungry,” Enjolras admitted. 

“Head down when you are,” he said, and he stalked out with Cosette on his heels. Courfeyrac was silent for exactly three seconds. 

“Wow, he's really strong-looking,” Courf said, “was he in prison or something? He looks like it. You know, one of those guys in the shows where he got arrested for something he didn't do and got all buff in jail. Also, you look absolutely nothing like him. He's got all that dark hair and big eyebrows, but you, Angel, you're all blond and you can hardly see _ your _ eyebrows.”

“I was adopted,” Enjolras explained. “I was tossed around the shitty foster care system for a while, actually, before landing here and I guess Valjean liked me enough to keep me around.” 

Courf nodded, “Oh, I guess that makes sense. You know, apparently a lot of the staff here come from not-so-perfect families too. I haven't really gotten to know most of them, but there's this one dude, Combeferre, he seems really nice. Quiet, though, and smart.” 

Enjolras nodded along as Courf talked and talked and the sun slid behind the mountains. He even smiled sometimes at Courf’s bad jokes, and he decided that making allies with the son of the man in charge of this place didn’t have many disadvantages, especially if the son was interested in at least some of the things Enjolras was, or pretended to be. 

By the time they both decided they were hungry, Enjolras had told Courf all about wanting to join the Peace Corps after he went to college. He learned that Courf was going into hotel management to take over his grandfather’s company, and he talked about all the big changes he was going to make to modernize it. 

Courf led Enjolras down to the main building, where he split off for the time being to go see his grandfather, and Enjolras was left alone. The main building consisted of three rooms plus a stage. He was in the dinner hall, where hundreds of tables were spread out evenly and nicely-dressed staff waited on everyone. Like everything else, the place had a rustic feel to it- it was all made of wood and the lights were dimmed while a jazz band played on the stage. Large, oak doors were open on the other side of the room, showing off the adjacent ballroom space left cleared for when the guests were done eating. To Enjolras’s left was a kitchen, he guessed, since staff kept running in and out of the metal the doors with plates full of food. 

He scanned the tables for any sign of his family, when he heard Cosette yell, “Angel! Over here!” over to his left. He walked over to where Valjean, Fantine, and Cosette all sat with glasses of sweet tea in front of them and relaxed smiles on their faces. He sat beside Cosette and in front of Valjean, feeling underdressed. Everyone seemed to be wearing something at least somewhat nice, while Enjolras was still in his comfy red shirt and loose jeans he’d worn for the car ride. 

Fantine smiled at him as he sat down and Cosette immediately began talking. “So, there’s this new song I found by The Killers, it’s called  _ When You Were Young, _ and it’s so so so good you have to listen to it, I downloaded it right before we left, here,” she said, shoving one of her earbuds in his ear. Before she could start the song, the man who must have been their waiter appeared. 

He was almost as tall as Valjean, with thick-rimmed glasses and a patient smile on his face. “Hello, my name’s Combeferre and I’ll be serving you today. Would you like something to drink?”

Enjolras remembered the heart-eyes Courf had for him, and although he wasn’t Enjolras’s type, he wasn’t bad looking either. “Just water, please.”

“Great, and I’m ready to take everyone else’s food order, or would you like another moment to decide?” 

Everyone except for Enjolras nodded, so he picked up a menu and told Combeferre something that didn’t sound too bad, and he was off with a smile to put in their orders. Enjolras listened to the song Cosette wanted him to, and he liked it fine, as he did with most of her music (not that he’d ever tell her that) and their food was brought out a few minutes later. Enjolras ended up ordering some sort of steak with coleslaw on the side, which he pushed away. He ate his steak in small bites as Fantine, Valjean, and Cosette all talked about the activities available the next day. 

“Angel,” Valjean said, snapping him out of his thoughts, “and you too, Cosette, listen up. I’m giving you both a lot of freedom here, I promise not to worry about where you are all the time as long as you’re back before dark, since there’s a lot of different activities to do and all and I’m sure you’ll want to try out a lot of them. Just, at least meet up with each other whenever you see each other that way if Fantine or I run into you you’ll know where each other are, or at least how long ago you saw them and where they were going, okay?”

“Yessir,” they both said in unison, and Cosette kicked him under the table in excitement. He vaguely remembered her mentioning how awful this trip would be if Valjean was constantly on top of them, but it seemed as if those fears were soothed. The dinner hall was quickly being emptied in favor of the ballroom, where Enjolras could hear some sort of guitar music coming from there. 

When he caught a flash of Courf in there, swimming in the crowd, Enjolras excused himself from the table and went to join him, happy to have an actual excuse to leave the table. As he got closer to the ballroom, he realized exactly what was being played with such heavy guitar music and out-of-tune singing. It was  _ country music _ . Christian country music, no less. Mercyme or Justin Timber Lake or something. Middle-aged couples danced together like it was the most romantic evening they’d ever had, and Enjolras caught up with Courfeyrac at the edge of the crowd. 

“What  _ music _ is this?” Enjolras said, loud enough for him to hear. 

“IT’S AWFUL, RIGHT?” Courfeyrac yelled in his ear, making Enjolras wince. 

“You don’t have to yell, I’m right here,” Enjolras said. 

“Sorry, Angel,” Courf said. “You see him? That’s Combeferre, the one I was talking about earlier.”

“Yeah, he was my server,” Enjolras said, watching as Combeferre danced with some middle-aged woman who seemed to be getting a little close for comfort. “Who is he dancing with?”

“Oh, that’s one of the ‘ bungalow bunnies’, my grandpa calls ‘em. They’re these married ladies who stay for the weekdays while their husbands go off to work, and they pay the staff to, well, you know.”

“Wait,” Enjolras said, “he’s a prostitute?”

“Well, not Combeferre, he’s not like that. But it’s an easy way to make lots of money fast, if you don’t have any pride or morals or whatever. Oh, see her?” Courf said, pointing to a very overdressed woman with a pile of dyed-black hair on her head and lipstick on her teeth. “That’s Mrs. Thenardier, the most bungalow of all the bungalow bunnies.”

“She’s certainly… something,” Enjolras said, watching as she flirted with one of the staff members, who was quickly becoming red in the face. 

The song ended, and everyone broke up and applauded as a voice came up on the loudspeaker. “Alright now, everybody, now please welcome our dance instructors for the season, Grantaire and Eponine, while they show us the  _ Mambo! _ You can learn it too by signing up today!” 

The crowd cleared to the sides of the room, leaving a gap right in the center, as the music started. It was still some sort of country-sounding song, but Enjolras didn’t notice due to the two dark-haired people spinning through the crowd in sync, delicately stepping through everyone to the rhythm of the song. As the intro stopped, they faced each other in the center and paused, each with a smile on their face, and Enjolras watched with wide eyes. 

The man, who must have been Grantaire, was maybe a few years older than Enjolras was, with some stubble growing on his chin, and his curly hair swept over his forehead and almost in his eyes, which were so green Enjolras could see them even in the dim light. He wore a white tank-top and tight, black pants, that looked like leather but must have been stretchy or something because he was easily able to move in time to the beat with no hint of constriction.

The woman, Eponine, also had dark hair, but it was straight and pulled back into a long ponytail that whipped around her as she danced. She wore a red, flowy dress, and wore the same shade of red lipstick. 

They both looked undoubtedly, completely  _ happy _ up there together, spinning each other around and striking poses at the ends of their smooth movements. Courf let out a low whistle from beside him. Enjolras had almost forgotten he was there, he was so entranced by the couple. 

“They’re  _ good _ , huh?” he said, and Enjolras nodded. “They come around every season, usually. They always take the last dance at all of the talent shows, trying to leave an impression or whatever.” He continued to watch the man as intently as possible without making it obvious. He was lean and strong-looking, with broad shoulders and slim waist, he looked like he could’ve been a superhero. Enjolras was entranced. 

They continued their dance, skipping around the edge of the circle they’d made gracefully, and Enjolras had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping. They were incredible. 

At one point, they each did a little solo dance, and Enjolras stared as Grantaire’s eyes swept over the crowd. His cheeks were flushed and beads of sweat were collecting on his brow, his lips were slightly parted so Enjolras saw a flash of his teeth, and his green eyes were on Enjolras. 

His eyes were on Enjolras.

And he  _ winked. _

“I have to go,” he found himself saying, “if you see Cosette, tell her I had a headache or something, or went on a walk, whatever.”

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Courf said, as the song began to finish and Enjolras backed away.

“I’m fine,” he said, and rushed out the nearest exit into the warm, sticky air. He needed a cold shower. He needed sleep. He needed to go home. 

Instead, he bumped into a stranger. 

“Watch it,” the stranger said, and for a split-second Enjolras had to do a double-take. The stranger looked similar to Grantaire in the dark, but upon closer inspection he was much more presentable-looking. He had styled, straight hair that curled delicately at his forehead, freshly shaven, and not a wrinkle in his staffs’ outfit. A cigarette lit up his face orange and Enjolras immediately thought,  _ this is what the devil looks like. _ All high-fashion and hair gel. 

“Sorry,” Enjolras said, stupidly just standing there.

“What’s got you going out in such a rush? Couldn’t stand any more Rascal Flatts?”

Enjolras couldn’t tell if it was a joke, so he just nodded and took a deep breath, and started coughing once he realized the air was intoxicated with smoke. The stranger let out a single laugh, or maybe it was a cough. 

“Are you really supposed to be smoking here?” Enjolras asked. The stranger shrugged. 

“It’s not inside,” he said. 

“What’s your name?”

The stranger smiled and looked at him through hooded, dark eyes. 

“Nobody,” he said, dropping his cigarette on the ground and walking off into the darkness. Enjolras stepped on the cigarette before it could light the whole building on fire, and walked the other direction. 

He ended up spending the rest of the hour pacing around the main building, trying to distract himself from everything that had happened just that night. Eventually, the crowd flooded out the doors, sweaty and smiling. 

It didn’t take long to find Cosette. She was with Courfeyrac, of course, laughing at something he said. He walked up to them, fitting between people to stand beside Cosette. 

“Hey, Angel, what’s up?’ she said. 

“Tell Valjean and Fantine I’m out for a walk around because I have a headache. Tell them I’ll stay away from the woods and won’t go off-campus and I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Alright,” Cosette said, resuming her conversation with Courf as Enjolras walked away, back to the path he’d been walking on circling the main building. He went inside to grab a bottle of water and finished it just as he got to the back end of the building, where he had seen the stranger smoking. He tossed his empty water bottle into a trash can nearby. 

“Stupid… watermelons…” Enjolras heard grunted as he tossed the water bottle away. He peered up the stairs (with a STAFF ONLY sign beside it) and he saw a familiar kid trying to carry two oversized watermelons up them. 

“Need some help?” Enjolras said, stepping into the light. This was the kid that Mrs. Thenardier had been flirting with earlier, with freckles and dusty-looking hair that probably wasn’t actually dusty. He turned around best he could to look at him. 

“Sorry, sir, it’s staff only,” he said, trying to rebalance the watermelons in his arms. 

“You really think you can make it up all those stairs by yourself?” Enjolras asked, beginning to climb up to where the kid was. 

“I mean…” he said, looking up at the 4 flights of stairs he still had to go, and then down at the watermelons in his arms. “No,” he sighed. 

“Let me help,” Enjolras said, wrestling a watermelon out of the kid’s arms and holding it to his chest.

“Thanks, but, uh, you really can’t tell anyone you went up here, especially Mr. Hugo, he’d be really mad.”   
“Alright,” said Enjolras, and they began climbing the stairs. “What’s your name?” 

“Marius,” he said, already huffing and puffing. “Yours?”

“Enjolras, but everyone seems to call me Angel,” he said, and Marius nodded. They didn’t talk again until they were at the front door of the staff house, which was only a little bigger than their own cabin down below. 

“Now, we just need to get these in there and you need to get out pretty soon, alright? Mr. Hugo doesn’t know about this, I think,” he said, opening the door. As soon as Enjolras stepped in, he could feel a heavy bass pulsing through the ground, and loud music seemingly coming from below them. Enjolras looked at Marius questioningly, but he wouldn’t meet his eye. “This way.”

Marius opened a door to their left, and the smell of alcohol and marijuana and other illegal substances, along with music so loud he thought he’d die, all hit him in the face at once. Enjolras wanted to just roll the watermelon down the stairs and be done with it, but he was curious more than anything, and Marius was already walking down the stairs. Enjolras followed. 

Heavy music talking about a candy shop of some kind filled all his senses, and the neon lights and smoke swallowed him whole. He felt like he was descending into hell instead of a basement. 

He surveyed the scene from above before he dared get close to joining it. Crowds of people- all staff and a couple of barely-dressed women Enjolras didn’t recognize, danced on the floor, and it was probably the most promiscuous thing Enjolras had ever seen. There was grinding and boobs and people being lifted into the air with wide, intoxicated smiles on their faces. 

Marius looked up at him, nodding towards the table off near the stairs with at least a hundred bottles lined on it. 

“They asked me to make a punch of some kind,” Marius said as he sat the watermelon down beside where Enjolras had set his. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the crowd. He’d never heard music like this, never seen dancing like this, or clothes or  _ anything _ . 

“Does all the staff do this?” Enjolras yelled over the music. Everyone was doing sort of the same thing, but with totally different styles. He spotted Combeferre dancing with one of the staff girls with big, curly hair, and he was laughing as he spun her around to the beat. 

“Yeah, pretty much ever since my cousin got here and showed everyone how to do his kind of partying.”

“Who’s your cousin?” Enjolras asked, a sinking feeling already in his stomach. 

“Him,” Marius said, as Grantaire stepped into view. Everyone yelled appreciatively as he guided Eponine through the crowd, both of them sweating and obviously on their way to getting drunk. Grantaire waltzed over to Marius without sparing Enjolras a second look, which he was glad for, and Eponine went and disappeared into the crowd. 

“Hey, Virgin Mary,” he said. “Mind finding Bossuet or Joly to make some more drinks?” 

Marius rolled his eyes, but nodded, and slipped away to find whoever Grantaire had asked for. Enjolras watched his lifeline wander into the crowd, and then it was just him and Grantaire. 

“You’re not staff, are you,” he said, squinting his eyes down at Enjolras. Terrified, Enjolras shook his head, and Grantaire sighed. “I told Marius not to bring anyone who wasn’t staff up here. Oh well, you won’t tell, will you? What’s your name?”

“Enjolras,” he stuttered. He felt pinned to the wall despite being at least five feet away from it. 

“What?”

“Angel,” he said louder, and Grantaire laughed. 

“Yeah, you look like it. Come on,” he said, and he grabbed Enjolras’s wrist and pulled him into the sea of people. Normally, Enjolras had at least a speck of courage, but all of that disappeared when Grantaire was right there and was holding his wrist while bodies shifted around them. He tried to apologize to people as he brushed against them, but quickly found that it was no use. Grantaire stopped at some point where there was enough room for the two of them to at least  _ almost _ breathe, but Grantaire stepped close anyway. 

“So, for starters, relax, Angel,” he said, leaning up against his ear so he could hear him. Enjolras shivered despite the heat and ignored how his pants were starting to feel tight. Grantaire put his hands on Enjolras’s shoulders until he forced them down, and he smiled at Enjolras. “See? Not so hard. Now, you’re gonna wanna move your hips like this,” he said, demonstrating doing  _ something _ with his hips. He still had his tight pants on and Enjolras tried very hard to focus on what he was trying to teach him instead of everything else running through his head. 

Enjolras tried after a moment, ended up looking like one of those inflatable air dancers outside of car lots, and stopped. Grantaire put his hand on his hip, guiding it to the beat as a new song started up. He recognized this song- it was called Promiscuous, and he only knew because Cosette had made him watch the video for it because it made her laugh so hard. Enjolras found it fitting. 

The beat was slower and less heavy than the candy shop song that had been playing previously, so it was easier for Enjolras to get the hang of it. He willed the top half of his body to lean back and relax more, and the bottom half to follow Grantaire’s lead. Too soon, Grantaire let go of Enjolras’s hip with a smile and began dancing with him. Enjolras tried to swerve so their crotches wouldn’t touch, but that was impossible due to the shrinking space around them, and in the end Enjolras wasn’t really complaining. He felt light and free, and absolutely drunk despite not having a drop of anything to drink. Grantaire started doing some complicated footwork, which Enjolras considered trying to copy for exactly one second before he realized he’d fall on his face as soon as he tried it. 

The next song started playing, and it was closer to the candy shop song, except this one was talking about partying like it was your birthday, and everyone seemed to switch positions so one partner’s back was against the other’s chest. Grantaire expertly spun Enjolras around so his back was pressed against Grantaire’s chest and waist and all that came with that, and he put his hands on his chest and they moved together to the beat. 

Enjolras was suddenly aware that it wasn’t exactly all too common for two boys to be dancing like this together, and he searched the crowd to see if anyone was staring. Although most of the guys were dancing with girls, but he spotted two of the boy staff dancing together, and Eponine was dancing with the girl with all the hair Combeferre had been dancing with earlier. The more he looked, the more uncommon couples he found. There were plenty of boys dancing with boys and girls dancing with girls, and some people Enjolras couldn’t even tell, and he decided to relax and let himself enjoy the feeling of Grantaire behind him and his hands on his hips. 

The beat dropped, and Grantaire let out a hoarse laugh (Enjolras could feel his breath on the back of his head) before slipping his hands down from his hips to the pockets of his jeans. He also started actually, for real  _ grinding _ against Enjolras, making his eyes pop open and he gasped. 

“Is this okay?” Grantaire mumbled in Enjolras’s ear. He swallowed and nodded and took a deep breath. Enjolras saw people wrapping their arms around their partner’s necks, so he did that, exposing his own neck to Grantaire, whose lips brushed against it. Enjolras bit back a sigh. Grantaire smelled like sweat and generic men’s deodorant, and Enjolras was sure he was dreaming, or absolutely losing his mind. 

The song ended and Grantaire let go of Enjolras, who nearly stumbled when he didn’t have Grantaire’s weight propping him up. Grantaire was smiling and his cheeks were the shade of wine, and Enjolras realized that he really, really needed to get home. 

“Thanks,” Enjolras said, leaning up against Grantaire to his ear. “I’ve gotta go.” 

“See you later, Angel,” he said, smiling slyly, and he gave him a two-fingered salute as Enjolras stumbled away back the way he’d come. 

It wasn’t difficult to find Marius. He and two other boys sat on barstools near the table where he’d set the watermelon, and he collapsed into a chair beside Marius. 

“Are you alright?” Marius said, concerned. One of the other two boys- the shorter one, handed Enjolras a red solo cup full of a clear liquid, which he declined. 

“It’s water,” he said, smiling. Enjolras took the cup, and took a deep sniff before taking a sip. It really was just water. 

“Thanks!” he said, and the short boy gave him a thumbs up. He quickly finished the water. 

“Did Grantaire get ahold of you?” Marius asked.

“How did you know?” 

“You’re his type,” said Marius, who offered nothing else on the matter. “This is Joly, the cook, and Bossuet, the clumsiest bartender in the northern hemisphere.” 

Joly, the shorter one, smiled up at Bossuet, whose hair was buzzed all the way to his scalp and waved at Enjolras. He waved back. 

“Have you seen Bahorel or Feuilly?” Joly asked Marius, who shook his head. 

“They’re probably in their room by now,” he said. “First day of the season and all.” 

“I need to get going,” Enjolras said over the man over the radio talking about a money-maker. Marius nodded and stood. 

“I’ll walk with you, let’s go,” he said, leading Enjolras up the stairs. Joly and Bossuet waved goodbye to him, and he waved back, and he ascended back into reality. 

In said reality, he was exhausted and sweaty, and sure he needed a shower. The walk back outside and down the stairs and to his cabin was hazy, and he realized he was probably contact-high, or whatever you called it. The humidity didn’t feel so bad against him anymore since he’d gotten used to the basement, but the smell of jasmine was much stronger than it was normally. 

He stumbled into his and Cosette’s room, grateful that they had a door that led directly from outside. Cosette wasn’t quite asleep, but her earbuds were in and she yawned when she saw Enjolras. Thankfully, she was too tired to notice, or at least to ask, about the fact that Enjolras looked and smelled like he’d just returned from a club. 

He spent a long time in the shower, trying to wash the smell off of him and thinking of Grantaire. When he finally did step out, he felt much more relaxed, and he put on a pair of boxers and a ratty tshirt, and fell asleep. He wasn’t surprised that he dreamt of Grantaire’s hands in Enjolras’s pockets, his lips brushing his neck, and his voice in his ear. 


	2. Chapter Two

 

He didn't see Grantaire at breakfast, and part of him was glad. His hair had dried funny and Cosette made sure to let him know that. Combeferre had been their server again, and he gave a more knowing smile to Enjolras rather than simply a polite one, and as soon as Enjolras finished his plate full of pancakes and other things he probably shouldn't put in his body, Courfeyrac found him and Cosette and dragged them behind him. 

“So, they don't tell anyone about this, but there's a secret supply of chocolate milk in the storage rooms in the kitchens. No one ever goes down there, but every time any of the staff drinks any, there's magically a new jug of it in there. It's wild. There's bets that it's my granddad, but he's not nice enough. Some people think it's me, and I feel bad for them ‘cause it isn't me,” Courfeyrac said, leading him and Cosette behind the kitchens. 

“Who do  _ you _ think it is?” Cosette asked. She was dressed in a white, billowing shirt that Enjolras thought made her look like a pirate, one of those oversized beach hats, and a floral skirt. He assumed she wasn't planning on doing much physical activity today, especially once he noticed the flimsy sandals she had on. 

Enjolras wore a white tanktop underneath a red button-up with the sleeves rolled up, and his black jeans and boots. He felt like a rockstar from one of Cosette’s bands. All he needed was some eyeliner and he was set. 

“I think it's Musichetta- you haven't met her yet, I don't think. She's one of the staff, she's really pretty and has all this black curly hair, like mine but times one hundred.”

Enjolras remembered her from last night, dancing with Combeferre and Eponine, but he couldn't say that. 

“Is she nice?” Cosette asked. 

“Yeah, and she doesn't bet like the rest of us, so it makes her suspicious. Well, I say  _ us _ , but I'm not really part of the staff, you know? Really, I'm just chilling here for the season in my own fancy cabin and I don't have to work like the rest of them do, but I've known a ton of them for a long time, like, since we were in  _ middle school _ long time, but I still kinda stick out from them. And everyone else here treats me as one of the staff but the staff doesn't really, so I just… stick out.” 

Cosette nodded sympathetically as Courf pulled open a door in the back of the main building. Inside it was almost completely dark, and he led them through he hall by natural light alone and towards a refrigerator at the far right wall. To their left was a huge metal shelf, filled with various pots and pans that looked brand new and untouched for a long time. 

“So, anyways, this chocolate milk situation…” Courfeyrac continued, but Enjolras was distracted by the distinct feeling that someone was watching him. He looked through the metal shelving and spotted a crumpled figure against the wall on the opposite side of the room. 

It was Eponine, Grantaire’s dance partner, and she looked like a complete wreck, even in just the dim light of the refrigerator. She looked up at him with tears running down her face, and distantly, Enjolras realized that if he kept looking at her then Courf and Cosette would notice, which she probably didn't want considering she was trying to hide. 

“Oh my god,” Enjolras said, forcing his two weeks of acting classes to good use by changing his facial expressions and body tension and whatever else they'd taught him, “there's this  _ huge  _ spider! Go!” 

Courfeyrac and Cosette gave equally high-pitched and terrified screams as they darted from the hallway and back outside, and Enjolras followed. 

“Did you see it? It was  _ huge _ ,” Enjolras said. Courfeyrac was still clutching the jug of chocolate milk to his chest and his eyes were wide. 

“I think I did, yeah,” Courfeyrac said, his voice quaking. Cosette nodded along, looking dazed. 

“Well, at least we got our prize,” Enjolras said, forcing a smile on his face. “Hey, I forgot something at the cabin. Courf, why don't you go get some glasses from the actual kitchen? I'll meet up with you in a few.” 

They nodded and trotted off, and Enjolras sprinted up the stairs towards the staff house. Now that he could see properly, he saw the staff section was basically a miniature version of the bigger cabins down below. Rows of what were probably one or two room cabins lined the hill in neat rows, all parallel to the staff house. Enjolras wasn't sure who he was looking, but someone Eponine knew better should go check on her and see what's wrong. 

He found some staff in the main room, most of which he didn't recognize, but he found Joly and Bossuet talking to Musichetta in the corner. He also spotted the stranger he saw from last night, standing in the corner looking suspicious. He ignored him, and tried to catch his breath as he approached Joly and Bossuet and Musichetta. 

“Do you know where Grantaire is? Or Marius?” he asked them. They paused their conversation to take him in as he was bent over with cramps in his sides. 

“Oh, Angel!” Joly said. “Is something wrong? Why are you here?” 

“It's Eponine,” he said, and their faces went somber. “Where's Grantaire?” 

“We can find him,” Musichetta said, spinning around to fully face him. “I'm Musichetta, I saw you last night, you aren't staff.” 

“I'm not, Marius brought me down there because watermelons,” he explained. Bossuet and Joly giggled behind their hands while Musichetta’s pierced eyebrow shot up. 

“I'm not even going to ask, just the name Marius says enough,” she said. “He's probably in the studio by now doing lessons.” 

She was efficient, which Enjolras immediately liked. She moved past him and towards the door in one swift motion, and opened it. 

“Well?” she said. “Are you coming?” 

Enjolras considered saying that he needed to go back to Courfeyrac and Cosette, in case he ended up intruding on something he wasn't meant to hear, but he wanted to help Eponine with whatever it was, as he wanted to help everyone. Enjolras nodded and followed. 

“We’ll stay behind,” Joly said. 

“Yeah, I don't think I wanna get wrapped up in this,” Bossuet added. 

It turned out that Grantaire was giving a lesson to Mrs. Thenardier of all people, who was very close to him and he seemed to be tolerating, if not  _ enjoying _ it. As soon as Musichetta burst in like a tornado, Grantaire smoothly ended the lesson with a polite kiss on her cheek, and he gathered with Enjolras and Musichetta outside. 

“Show me where she is,” Grantaire said, all charm that he'd had with Mrs. Thenardier gone. Enjolras nodded, tried not to be hurt by the annoyance in his voice, and took them to the kitchen storage room where he'd last seen her. Grantaire and Musichetta went in for a few minutes, and came back out just barely holding Eponine up on her feet. 

“We need to get her up to her cabin,” Musichetta said. 

“Angel, you can go,” Grantaire said sharply. “We have this.” 

“What's wrong with her?” 

“She's fine,” Grantaire and Musichetta said in unison, while Eponine’s head rolled back and drool dripped out of her mouth. 

“She's not  _ fine _ ,” Enjolras said, properly annoyed. “If you don't tell me what the hell is wrong with her, I'll-”

“Angel,” Musichetta said. “I'll come find you once we get her settled, is that okay? It might be a little bit, but I'll find you and bring you up here, okay?” 

Enjolras bit his lip, looked between Eponine and Musichetta, and nodded reluctantly. 

“Now go,” Grantaire said, and they spun around as one and climbed up the stairs, leaving Enjolras behind. 

He found Cosette and Courfeyrac inside the dining hall, laughing over glasses of chocolate milk. He joined them. 

“Hey, Angel, you get lost?” Cosette said, and slid over a glass of chocolate milk for him. 

“No, Valjean wanted to talk to me,” Enjolras lied. 

“Ah,” she said simply, taking a sip of her milk and getting a find milk-stache to prove it. 

Courf said nothing, but Enjolras could see the smile he was trying to hide behind his glass as he took a sip. Consequently, the twisting of his mouth caused him, too, to have a milk-stache. 

Enjolras snorted, letting down the act, and Cosette began laughing at Courf and Courf began laughing at Cosette and they were a mess and Enjolras was happy. Really, truly happy, not just content, but happy. 

“What activities are you guys going to do today?” Courfeyrac asked. “I think I’m gonna go hiking.”

“I’m going to the painting class. Angel?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, I didn’t look at the list.”

“Oh, there’s painting and hiking, obviously,” Courfeyrac started, “and some lectures you can go listen to but they all sound boring. I think there’s an exercise class, too, and some music thing.”

“I don’t know, I’ll probably just wander around and do whatever looks interesting,” Enjolras said, as a door on the corner of his eye opened, and Musichetta was there, looking right at him. He didn’t look over right at her, but he started getting up, anyways. 

“I’m gonna go see what Fantine is doing,” he said, earning strange looks from Cosette, but, god bless Courfeyrac and his loud mouth, smiled and began talking.

“Sure, but if you’re gonna do hiking I think we’re meeting here at 2. See you!” 

Enjolras shuffled around his chair, took one last gulp of chocolate milk, and walked over to Musichetta. She led him outside near the staircase that led up to the staff houses. 

“Eponine is fine. Grantaire didn’t even want you up there, but you might have saved her life by telling us when you did, so thank you. I told him I’m going down to see who all signed up for his dance lessons. You go up there, she’s in cabin number 5 on the right. Grantaire will explain everything.” 

“Thank you,” he said to Musichetta, mildly shocked that she even told him even when she so clearly didn’t have to. She smiled down at him, ruffled his hair, and walked away from him, hair bouncing with her steps. 

Enjolras raced up the steps, and instead of going straight to the main staff house, he swerved right and found cabin number five. They were all identical, but there was a large  _ Keep Out _ sign hanging on the door and the blinds were shut tightly, but broken in some places. Enjolras steeled himself, climbed the steps up to the small porch, and knocked firmly on the door. 

It took a moment for Grantaire to answer, and he looked utterly unsurprised to see Enjolras standing there with concerned, wide eyes. 

“I shouldn’t have trusted her, huh?” he muttered. “She’s way too nice. What do you want, Angel?” 

Enjolras stuttered for a moment, thinking it was rather obvious what he was there for, until the unmistakable sound of somebody retching came from inside. Grantaire turned around, not moving out of the doorframe, and sighed. 

“Fine, whatever,” he said, turning around and leaving the door open. Enjolras tentatively stepped inside. 

The walls were covered with posters. Album art, political signs, spray-paint on canvas, everything. In the back right corner was a twin-sized bed, and clothes made mountains on the landscape of her floor. A single rack of clothes to the left of the door showed off several nice dancing outfits, Enjolras assumed, and in the middle of it all was Eponine, throwing up into a trash can. Grantaire smoothed her hair back with a gentleness Enjolras had never seen. 

Enjolras stayed a safe distance away, until it seemed like Eponine was done and she curled up on her floor and closed her eyes. If it wasn’t so absolutely heartbreaking to see someone in a state like that, he would’ve been grossed out by it all. Instead, he just looked to Grantaire, who sat beside her and kept brushing his fingers through her hair. Grantaire looked up at him, his green eyes full of anger. 

“She overdosed,” he said simply. “Pain meds, or something.”

Enjolras let out a shaky breath, and sat down on the floor. “Why?” 

“She’s pregnant, and can’t afford an abortion, and she can’t dance if she’s pregnant and she doesn’t have insurance for a doctor to do it, anyways. I’ve tried to tell her, there’s this Doctor guy coming into town not too far from here who said he’ll do it for two-fifty. She thought she could afford it after her paycheck last night, but it wasn’t even close to what she thought it would be.” 

Enjolras’s mind kicked in over his emotions, because this was the only way he knew how to function. “Is this doctor legit?”

“As far as I know, yeah.” 

“I can get her the two-fifty she needs.” 

Grantaire immediately started shaking her head. “No, she won’t take it.”

“She has to.”

“She  _ won’t _ , alright?” Grantaire snapped. He hadn’t gotten any louder, but Enjolras felt like he’d been yelled at. “She won’t. She’s so stubborn, she won’t.”

“I can convince her to,” Enjolras said, because he was desperate. He didn’t care that Grantaire was there, he didn’t care that he had no idea where he’d get the money from, he just wanted to help her. 

Grantaire bit his lip. “Are you serious?” 

Enjolras nodded, not taking his eyes off of her. 

“I can pay for half of it. That’ll make her feel better about it, at least. I’ll have to double-check when the doctor’s coming into town, to see how long you have and she has,” he said, then began glaring at Enjolras, “If you are lying even the slightest bit, or can’t figure out how to get the money, I swear I’ll-”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said calmly, cutting him off. “I won’t let you down.” 

Grantaire took a deep breath in and nodded. “She’s going to be pissed off when she figures it out. Keep this on the down-low until she’s better. Can you come back here tonight, after hours?” 

“Yeah,” said Enjolras. 

“Also,” he said reluctantly, scratching the back of his neck, “sorry about last night, if I crossed a line or anything, I didn’t mean to get so into it, and also get so drunk.” 

“It’s fine,” Enjolras said, already feeling his cheeks reddening. “It was… fine.” 

Grantaire sighed, “Good.” 

“Yeah.”

Grantaire sat in silence, looking down on Eponine. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Enjolras said tentatively, “Are, uh, you the father?” 

Grantaire’s eyebrows shot up, then lowered, and he laughed. His whole face seemed to wrinkle up in it, it was completely different than the smile he wore while dancing. 

“No, no, definitely not, we’re not,” Grantaire said, snorting. 

“Then who is? Do you know?”

“It’s Montparnasse’s.” 

“Who?” 

“You know,” Grantaire said, “the dark and brooding one who’s always smoking and takes himself way too seriously.” 

Enjolras remembered the stranger he met last night, and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen him.” 

“Yeah, he and Eponine were a thing for a little bit, and by that I mean he was paying her to have sex with him. She needed the extra money. So he apparently goes in the corner, says he’s putting a condom on, but he was lying. Eponine didn’t realize until it was too late.”

“Jesus,” Enjolras said. “Doesn’t that count as rape?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, smiling bitterly. “Monty’s got enough money to make Eponine disappear if he wanted to. She’d get fired if it ever got out that she had sex with Monty, and then she’d really be ruined.”

Anger poured through Enjolras. “That’s so  _ shitty, _ just fucking horrible, she deserves so much more, everyone does. Every single one of you. You work your asses off every season and what does Javert give you? Probably not even minimum wage. So little that Eponine can’t afford insurance or a doctor, or even have $250 just in case of an emergency. It’s not  _ fair. _ ” 

He looked up to see Grantaire laughing at him. 

“What?” he shot. 

“You just got out of high school, huh? Trying to be a lawyer or some shit.” 

“Peace corps,” he said curtly. 

“Whatever,” Grantaire said. “The thing is, poor people like Eponine and I can’t change the world, middle-class people can’t change it, and the rich don’t give enough of a shit to do it anyway. We just survive.” 

“That’s not  _ true _ ,” Enjolras insisted. “If enough people come together and advocate for a change in the political system, if we educate people and start demanding things, go on strikes and do protests and all that, we’re going to see change.” 

“It won’t do anything, Angel. It fucking  _ won’t _ . The world’s too awful for a handful of people to make any sort of difference. Get over yourself,” he spat. “Just go, okay? Just go.” 

Enjolras was fuming. “No, you’re wrong and-”

“I don’t give a shit, okay? My best friend just tried to kill herself because there wasn’t any fucking hope in the  _ entire  _ world for her. Nothing you can say to me right now will convince me that this world isn’t evil, if it can’t give anything for someone like Eponine to live for.” 

Grantaire was close to crying, but he seemed more pissed off than sad about it. Enjolras stood. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

Grantaire just glared at him, tears brimming on his eyelashes. 

Enjolras left, feeling more lost than ever. 

He needed to find Cosette, or Valjean, or Fantine, or anyone that could ground him back to reality. His head was full of cotton. 

Instead, he walked back to his cabin and took a nap. 

It was fitful and he kept feeling that falling sensation one does when they’re on the brink of falling asleep, until it feels like you’re actually falling and you sit up in bed, terrified. Enjolras had read somewhere that it was your nervous system or whatever noticing how quickly your heart was slowing down and it woke you up to make sure you weren’t dying. 

Cosette entered eventually, and he decided to give up on trying to have a restful nap and talk to her instead. 

She came in carrying sunshine and a canvas with her. When she saw Enjolras was awake, she took out an earbud and said, “Look what I painted!” 

She turned the canvas around to show him a surprisingly well-done landscape, but all of the colors were dramaticized and the trees grew in tangles like hair rather than rigid lines. It was impressive. He raised his eyebrows and nodded at her, and she beamed. 

“Are you alright? You missed lunch,” Cosette said, setting her canvas down on her bed and turning off her MP3. 

“I’m fine,” Enjolras said, stretching out his neck. She frowned at him. 

“Liar,” she said. “What’s wrong, Angel?” 

“I don’t want to be here,” he said, which was at least mostly true. “Hey, Cosette, how much money did you bring with you?” 

“About 100, why?” 

He closed his eyes, bracing himself for questions he didn’t really want to answer, and said, “I need it.” 

“Why?” she asked. 

“If I tell you the truth, you have to promise not to tell anybody. Not Courf, not Valjean, not Fantine,  _ not  _ Javert. Okay?”

“Alright, I pinky swear. What’s up?” 

“So, you remember the dancer, last night, the girl Eponine? Well, while we were in the storage room getting the chocolate milk earlier, I saw her on the other side of the room, in the dark, crying. So I pretended there was a spider to get you guys out and I went up to the staff house to try and find her partner, Grantaire. Turns out, she’s pregnant with this guy Monty’s kid and she can’t afford insurance or any of that, and she can’t dance if she’s pregnant, obviously, so her only option was this doctor that was coming into town soon. I assume in the next few weeks, so she thought that the paycheck she got last night would be enough to cover the abortion- it’s $250- but it wasn’t. She apparently overdosed on pain meds or something and went in the storage room to die, so Grantaire came and got her and brought her up to her cabin, and then this girl Musichetta told me where they were- oh, she helped, too- and so I went up there again when I told you and Courf that I was going to see Fantine and I figured all this out, right? And Eponine, you should’ve seen her, Cosette, she looked awful. And I told Grantaire that I’d pay for the abortion if he could convince her to  _ let _ me pay, and he said he’d do it if I let him cover half the cost, so now I need $125 or Grantaire is going to kill me and Eponine will kill herself and Montparnasse will make it all look like an accident and my ghost will be stuck here, forever haunting this shitty mountain because I wasn’t able to do this thing I promised I’d do, and-”

“Angel,” Cosette said softly, interrupting him mid-breakdown. “I’ll give you the money, on certain conditions. First, you let me come up and see her. It sounds like she could use a friend. And, if any of this gets messed up whatsoever, if the doctor ends up being fake or if she gets hurt or  _ anything _ , we go to Valjean. Also, you let me paint your nails and practice on you whenever I want, and I get all your desserts while we’re here. And you let me play with your hair. Deal?” 

“That’s all?” he had imagined hundreds more conditions- Cosette had been saving up that money since last winter- and she was simply giving it away. 

“Yeah, let’s say your generosity’s rubbing off on me, Mr. Peace Corps,” she smiled. “You can have it, so all we need it $25 more, right?” 

“Right,” he said. “Thanks, sis.” 

“No problem. I’ll hold onto it until she needs it, ‘cause I know you lose everything. I’m sure I can ask Fantine for twenty bucks, and you can ask Valjean for five, say it’s for food or something, and there’s our twenty five.” 

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Also, that Montparnasse guy, he didn’t seem so bad. He helped me paint this and come up with the idea of the trees as hair.”

“Well, apparently, he’s rich. And if it ever got out that Eponine had sex with him she’d get fired and they have enough money to make her disappear, Grantaire said.” 

“Jesus,” she said. “Bet you loved hearing that, huh?” 

“We fought about it, yeah, but I gave up.”

“Why? You never give up on things like that.” 

“His best friend just tried to kill herself because the world was so awful to her she didn’t see a point in living. I don’t blame him for being a little pessimistic just then. I just hope he’s not like that all the time.” 

“You like him, huh?” Cosette said with a knowing look in her eye which he chose to completely ignore. 

“He dances well, but I don’t really know him aside from today.” 

“But you like him.”

“I mean, I don’t  _ hate  _ him.”

“So you like him?”

“No, I just don’t dislike him.”

“So what you’re telling me is you like him.” 

“Cosette,” he snapped, and she giggled from her bed. 

“You like him!” she announced. 

“If I say yes, will you shut up?”

“Yes.”

“Then yeah, sure, I like him.” 

“I can’t believe you like him. He looks like a hobo.” 

“No he doesn’t.”

“Yes he does! Like a nasty hobo man. He looks like he hasn’t shaved in a week and probably forgets to put on deodorant.” 

Enjolras remembered the smell of his deodorant and sweat all over him, his lips against his skin, his hands on his hips. He swallowed thickly. “Whatever.” 

“You  _ so _ like him. I bet you know what he smells like.”

“I thought you said you’d shut up about it,” Enjolras said, properly annoyed. 

“Fine, but will you at least listen to music with me?” she asked, her voice a little softer. 

“Okay,” he said, and scooted over on his bed to make room for her. She laid beside him, shoved one of her earbuds in his ear, and turned on that same song by The Killers she’d shown him yesterday. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to forget about Grantaire, if even for just a moment, but every song she put on reminded Enjolras of him. He was pretty sure she was doing it on purpose, but when he looked over at her to complain, her eyes were closed and she was smiling at the ceiling. Enjolras didn’t say anything. 

Dinner came quickly, and Enjolras had apparently fallen asleep at some point, because when he woke Cosette was gone and he was tucked under a blanket he originally didn’t have on him. 

He pulled off the blanket, looked outside to see the sun beginning to set, and he put on his shoes and he was gone. 

He made it to the main building along with most of the crowd, so he actually had time to look at the menu and gave Combeferre his order of a grilled chicken salad with extra croutons. Everyone else ordered, and Enjolras looked to Valjean, gathering up courage. 

Cosette and Fantine mostly filled their table with idle chatter, but in a rare moment of semi-silence, Enjolras cleared his throat.

“Hey, Valjean?”

He looked up at Enjolras and smiled politely. “Yes?”

“Would you mind giving me five dollars? I can pay you back and everything, but-”

“You don’t need to explain,” he said, shaking his head. “Here.” He dug in his pocket and offered Enjolras a crisp five dollar bill. 

“Thanks,” he said, giving Valjean a genuine smile, and Valjean gave him one in return. 

“Speaking of money,” Cosette said, “Mom, you remember when I went shopping for you and you said you’d pay me back?”

“Oh, right,” Fantine said, grabbing her purse. “How much do I owe you? It was quite a bit, wasn’t it?”

“Just give me a 20 and we’ll call it even,” she said, and Fantine handed her two ten dollar bills with a smile.   
“Thanks, sweetie. So, Angel, how was your day?”

“Fine,” Enjolras said, taking a sip of his sweet tea. “I mostly just relaxed and walked around the campus, taking in the sights and all. And I hung out with Cosette and Courfeyrac.” 

“He seems like a nice young man,” she said, looking pointedly at Cosette, who had decided that her cup of sweet tea was the most interesting thing in the world. Valjean let out a laugh, and Fantine smiled. 

Normally, Enjolras felt like an outsider in his family. He technically wasn’t related, he wasn’t white, he was gay and adopted and had a knack for social justice. But during that dinner he felt fine. Settled. Like they truly saw him as a person and not just a knock-off of a son. He hoped he could make them proud. 

They finished their dinner and dessert (with Enjolras keeping his promise, of course) and everyone began their trek back to their cabins, since there was no dancing tonight. The staff all filtered out the back door, surely heading towards the basement of the main house to dance and smoke, and Enjolras looked down at Cosette and realized the weight of the promise he’d given her. 

She was going to go up there with him, which meant she was going to see all of the dancing and probably get high and someone might make her drink something. 

“We’re going back to the house,” Enjolras said as he took her by the wrist and led her back. It was getting close to eight by the time they made it back, and Valjean and Fantine announced that they were going to bed early to watch TV or something and they wished them goodnight. 

Once they were gone, Enjolras turned on Cosette. “You’re not wearing that,” he said.

“Why not?” 

“Because I’ve realized where I’m going to have to take you, and it’s not exactly for kids.”

“I’m sixteen,” she said, rolling her eyes. 

“Exactly,” he said. “Now, go change.”

“Is it like a party?”

“Sort of, but-” 

Before he could get another word out, he realized that Cosette was smiling like a demon at him. He groaned, realizing what he’d just done. If Cosette thought that this was a party, she was going to go completely out of her way with the makeup and clothes and hair and everything. 

“I’m going to take a shower and try some clothes on, I’ll be back!” she said gleefully. 

“Can I at least use your MP3?” Enjolras asked. 

“Sure,” she said, and Enjolras sighed, took his shoes off, and got comfortable. He was going to be there for a while. 

And sure enough, it wasn’t until 9:30 that Cosette walked out of the bathroom, her hair curled and a pink tanktop on with black jeans and combat boots, bright pink lipstick and heavy eyeliner. 

“You look like that one chick,” Enjolras said upon seeing her. “The one with the skater boy?”

“Avril Lavigne,” she said, smiling wickedly. “Perfect. Let’s go.” 

They made sure to shut the lights off and keep the door unlocked behind them as they ventured out into the night. Enjolras was slowly growing less and less confident in his outfit- he’d been wearing it all day and originally thought it looked nice, but now it was crumpled and his hair was a mess and he was nervous, most of all. 

“You have your wallet?” he asked her, and she nodded. 

“You have your five bucks?” she asked him, and he nodded, too, sticking a finger in his pocket just to make sure. 

They walked around the main building and up the steps towards the staff houses. 

“Now, Cosette, it’s going to be wild in there, probably, so listen. Don’t smoke anything, don’t drink anything unless Joly tells you it’s water. Not if some stranger tells you it’s water, only if  _ Joly _ does. He’s the cook, or bartender or something.”

“Wait,” she said. “Is this where you were last night?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It was sort of an accident, and also a long story, but just stay near the edges and don’t go into the crowd and dance with anybody, okay? If you see Grantaire, tell him to come find me and you stay where you are. Then, we’ll go see Eponine. Alright?”

“Okay,” she said as they walked through the staff main house’s front door. Enjolras could feel the pulsing beat beneath his feet, and looked back at her. She seemed excited. 

“I’m serious about the not drinking and smoking, alright? If it gets to be too much for you, tell Joly that you went up here, okay? I’ll introduce you to him.” 

She nodded her head, her curls bouncing, and he led her to the door that led to the basement. The same blast of smokey air hit both of them like it did last night, and she coughed. 

“Gross,” she said. He nodded, and led his little sister down the stairs into the Dionysian pit. 

It was exactly like it had been last night, except more people crowded around and danced on each other. Cosette watched with wide eyes as the music became clearer and they approached the table at the base of the stairs, where Joly and Bossuet sat, making drinks. 

“Hey,” Enjolras said to Joly, and he smiled up at him. “This is my sister, she’s gonna stay right here with you. Don’t let her go off anywhere. If you see Grantaire, tell him to come find me, alright?” 

Joly looked between Enjolras and Cosette, and he nodded. “She’s not staying, though, is she?”

“No, absolutely not. I just have to find Grantaire then we’re leaving,” he reassured him, and Joly smiled. 

“Okay, go find you lover boy!” Joly called as Enjolras dived into the crowd. 

The bass shook the room and everyone swayed and grinded and made out to the beat. Enjolras felt better now that he had a clear objective, and shoved his way through everyone without bothering to say excuse me. Several times, girls came up to him and tried to dance with him, which he tried to politely decline and move away as fast as he could. 

When he did find Grantaire, three songs had passed and he’d stepped in throw-up five times, had gotten elbowed in the side so hard he was sure it was going to bruise, and smoke blown on his face by four different people. 

Grantaire was propped up against the back wall, in the shadows, drinking from a whole bottle of rum. He looked awful, on an objective level, but Enjolras’s heart still lifted in his chest when he saw him. Enjolras nearly sprinted over to him. 

“Hey,” he said to Grantaire, who looked down on him with no expression at all. 

“Do you want to dance?” he asked, his voice surprisingly clear. 

Every bone and muscle and nerve inside of him screamed  _ yes _ , but Enjolras shook his head. “I have the money for Eponine, we need to go see her. Is she alright?” 

“No more  _ questions,  _ Angel,” he said, taking another swig. “Why are you so full of questions?” 

“Come on, Grantaire, put that bottle down and come with me,” he said, inching slightly closer to Grantaire. 

“Dance with me, and I’ll go with you,” Grantaire decided. Enjolras nodded. 

“One song, though, okay? I have to explain some things to you and I don’t wanna take all long or be up all night or anything.” 

“Relax,” Grantaire drew out, setting down his bottle and pulling Enjolras behind him out onto the floor. Enjolras’s stomach tightened with excitement and he bit down a smile as Grantaire stopped in the crowd, and turned to face him. 

“Do you remember what I taught you last night?” Grantaire said, and Enjolras nodded. Grantaire put his hands on Enjolras’s hips and they began swaying together, and Enjolras forced himself to relax and lean back and probably get closer to Grantaire than he needed to.

And so they danced. Enjolras was considerably more relaxed than he had been last night, and he tried to ignore the tingling he felt when Grantaire’s stubble rubbed against his face when he got too close. He tried to ignore his breathy sighs when Grantaire leaned up close to him so Enjolras could feel his quick heartbeats. And he definitely didn't almost die of shock when the song ended and Grantaire kissed right under his jawline. 

“Just one song? Are you sure?” Grantaire said as Enjolras reluctantly slipped away. 

“Eponine,” he managed to get out, and Grantaire sighed and nodded, letting Enjolras lead him back towards the front where the stairs were. 

They broke the crowd and Enjolras found Cosette, Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet all talking and laughing loudly. Cosette’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes were clear, which Enjolras took as a good sign. 

“Found him, let's go,” he said to Cosette as they got close. 

“Aww,” she pouted, looking back at Musichetta and the boys. “Can't I stay for just, like, a minute longer?” 

“No, we’re leaving,” he said, pushing Cosette up the stairs and pulling Grantaire up behind him. “Thanks for watching her!” he shouted to Joly at the last minute, who gave him a thumbs-up and waved goodbye. 

“Grantaire, this is Cosette,” Enjolras said. 

“Who the fuck is she?” he asked. 

“Cosette,” Enjolras repeated. 

“I'm his sister,” she explained. “Eponine?”

“Eponine,” Enjolras said. He led them out the door and into the quiet night air, which was soothing on Enjolras’s nerves, and they got to cabin number five. Grantaire walked right in, and Enjolras and Cosette followed closely behind, shutting the door. 

Eponine laid on her bed, looking bored and pale, writing in some notebook. She looked up as they entered. 

“What the fuck is this,” she said, “some sort of intervention?” 

“Eponine, you're gonna be so pissed,” Grantaire said, approaching her and sitting on the edge of her bed. “But you owe me a few big favors, and I'm cashing in on them now to let us do this for you.” 

Eponine looked between him and Enjolras and Cosette suspiciously. “What.” 

“We have the money to pay for the abortion, and you're going to take it and get the abortion. Marius will go with you in a week, when he gets here, and it'll be fine.” 

“I'm not taking your fucking money,” she said. “Who the hell are these people?” 

“This is Angel and Cosette, they're helping pitch in.”

“I don't even know them.” 

“They wanna help, ‘Ponine, and I know you hate it, but you can't go pulling the kind of shit you pulled today, okay?” 

“I don't want their pity.”

“We aren't  _ pitying _ you,” Enjolras said. “I'm trying to prove to Grantaire that the world isn't all bad.” 

“Pfft, good luck with that. He's a skeptic down to the bone,” she said. “Is that really it?” 

He nodded. 

“What about you?” 

“Oh,” Cosette said, “I'm his sister, I said I'd help pitch in money for him if he'd take me to the party in the basement in that other house. Among a laundry list of other things he said he'd do. He's stubborn like that, desperate to prove that he's right.”

“So you're just a generous optimist who has a personal vendetta against Grantaire’s morals,” she said. 

“Exactly,” Enjolras said. She seemed to consider for a moment. 

“You look like Avril Lavigne,” Eponine said, and Cosette smiled brightly. 

“Thanks,” she said, and Eponine gave her a small smile back. 

“Fine,” she said. “Fine, but what about the Sewers’ Hall performance next Thursday?” 

“What about it?” Grantaire asked. 

“If we don't show up and do the Mambo or whatever, then we lose our money for the whole  _ month _ . You and I both know we can't afford to lose that. And if this abortion thing goes as planned, then I won't be up on my feet by then, much less able to dance. Plus, all the other people here who dance work that day, they won’t be able to just take off like we do.”

Grantaire cast his eyes downward. “Yeah.” 

“Angel can do it,” Cosette said, and he elbowed her in the ribs. 

“ _ Angel _ doesn't know how to even move his hips properly,” spat Grantaire.  _ Ouch.  _ “That's ridiculous.” 

“No, wait,” Eponine said. “It might work. I've read the rules for the performance a dozen times, it never says anything about it having to be the same two people all the time, or even that it has to be a guy and a girl.” 

“You two are forgetting,” said Grantaire through clenched teeth, “Angel. Can't. Dance.”

“But we could teach him,” Eponine said, starting to sit up fully. “He's got the body for it, probably weighs even less than me. Come on, Grantaire, you could teach anyone to dance. Plus, all of the staff can help if you get it in their schedules.”

“No one can teach him the entire fucking dance in just over a week,” Grantaire retorted. 

“Sure we can, just grill him hard. You'll do it, right, Angel?”

Enjolras nodded, not quite having an idea of what he was getting into, but if it involved dancing with Grantaire, then there was no way he could say no. 

“But-”

“Grantaire,  _ do it _ . I swear that I won't complain about you guys paying for me and I'll do all the dance lessons for you, starting tomorrow, so you can focus on Angel.” 

“Swear it,” Grantaire said to her, holding out his pinky, and she locked it with hers. 

“Cool,” Eponine said, smiling. “Training starts tomorrow. You two go home and get some rest.”

They turned around to leave. 

“Hey guys?” Eponine said. They turned around. 

“Thank you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember to leave kudos/comments! thanks!!


	3. Chapter Three

“Wake up, Angel. Wake up! Ah, there you are. Morning, sunshine,” said a voice from the foot of his bed. It wasn't Cosette. He opened his eyes. 

It was Grantaire, wearing a green, paint-splattered shirt and a wicked smile. Enjolras sat up, remembered he hadn't put on a shirt when he went to bed that night, and quickly pulled the comforter up over his bare chest. 

“What are you doing in here?” Enjolras asked through a yawn. 

“Door was unlocked,” he said simply. 

“I can't believe you.” 

“You don't have to, you just have to get dressed and come with me. Wear this.” Grantaire tossed him one of his looser shirts and a pair of gray sweatpants. “Grab your shoes, but you can't wear them in the studio. Put up your hair if you can.” 

Enjolras looked over and saw Cosette, awake, and listening to music. She glanced over at him, shrugged, and kept tapping away. 

Carefully, Enjolras let down the comforter and stood up to stretch. He didn't think about Grantaire’s eyes piercing him through his back, or how he could still feel Grantaire’s stubble against his neck or any of that. He grabbed his shirt, put it on, and nearly fell over putting on the sweatpants, and Grantaire snickered because he was a piece of shit, and he went to the bathroom to freshen up. 

He pulled his hair up and brushed his teeth and went through his usual routine, intensely aware of Grantaire back on his bed, waiting on him. And when he pulled on his shoes, Grantaire led him out the door into the morning air. It was fresh and it smelled like dew, and the sun wasn't too bright yet and it was beautiful. 

Grantaire led him to one of the recreational buildings, which Enjolras had not explored yet, and up a flight of stairs and onto a porch. Grantaire smiled as he pulled him into the studio. 

It was grand and clean of flaws. Walls made of huge windows kept the morning light in, and mirrors along the walls reflected it even more. 

Enjolras smiled, despite himself, and Grantaire grinned. “Welcome to my domain, young pajama, or whatever the Star Wars thing is. Today, you're going to learn what the hell a Mambo is and how to do it perfectly, with yours truly. Let's begin. First, take off your fucking shoes before you step on this floor or so help me I will rip off your feet and feed them to you.”

Enjolras took off his shoes and socks and joined Grantaire on the floor. 

“Excellent. Now, you are going to be my Eponine, except you'll never be as good as her because she's perfect, but you will try, and you'll come close enough. First, you gotta learn the basic step for it. It's all about counting and shifting your weight with your hips, but not so much that you get unbalanced, understand? So, first, I'm gonna show you. Hold on, stand beside me for now.” 

Enjolras moved over so he stood beside him. They faced the mirror and Enjolras watched as Grantaire stepped forward with his left foot on the count of two, then on three stepping back on his right foot, and on four bringing his left foot back. Then, he started counting again, and instead he moved his right foot backwards on two, shifted his weight to his left foot on three, and moved his right foot back on four. 

“Easy enough, right? Do it with me now,” Grantaire said, “One, step, replace, back, one, step back, replace, back.” 

Enjolras managed to do it, uneven and shaky, but he did it. Grantaire nodded. 

“Start practicing that basic footwork all the time. It's pretty easy, but it needs to be part of muscle memory as soon as possible, because there's gonna be so many other things to focus on, it'll get crazy and your feet need to keep you upright and on the beat.”

“Okay.”

They continued like that for about half an hour, speeding up the steps and Grantaire began to integrate music into it. Sometimes, he still stepped forward on one instead of two, which made Grantaire’s eye twitch. The sixth time he did it, Grantaire cut the music. 

“Okay, we’re stopping. Come,” he said, walking over to the dusty tile floor below the dance floor and digging around some desk. He pulled out two styrofoam to-go boxes with a smile, and handed one to Enjolras. 

He sat beside him and they both ate the fruit and muffins Grantaire had packed. Enjolras was much hungrier than he thought he was, but he still ate at a slower pace than Grantaire. 

“Now we wait five minutes for the food to settle, then we’re moving on to turns and shit,” he said. “You still need to work on stepping on the two instead of the one, and moving your hips with the shifting weight and all of that, plus you can't be looking down at your feet the whole time. Mambo shit is all high up and fast and straightforward. It's boring to me, really, everyone's seen a good Mambo, but there's so much  _ more _ than just that kind of dancing. There's ballet, of course, and single dancing and all that, but I like having a partner.” 

Enjolras had accepted the fact that Grantaire would go on for the entire five minutes they had talking about everything Enjolras was doing wrong and how awesome his dancing was, but he stopped. 

“Angel,” he said. 

“What?”

“Are you sure you still want to do this?”

“Of course,” Enjolras said in a heartbeat. 

“Because, if you don’t, I can find someone else, probably,” he said.

“I’ll do it, Grantaire.” 

“Well, fantastic, then. So, anyways, your whole form is lacking in the rigidness you need for the mambo, but we can work on that. Oh, also…” Grantaire continued for what was probably longer than five minutes, only pausing to ask Enjolras if he understood was he was saying. 

The day went by quickly. Grantaire taught him what felt like a thousand things, and Enjolras was covered in sweat and his muscles were sore but he was somehow happy about it. 

“We’ll stop soon,” Grantaire said. He had already taken his shirt off, which did nothing to help Enjolras focus, and he was starting to stumble more frequently. “At four, we can stop. It’s 3:30 now. Okay, hold out your arms like a typical ballerina would, like you’re going in for the most awkward hug ever.”

Enjolras did as he was told, and Grantaire stepped in front of him and repositioned his hands so he held one of his hands and Enjolras gripped Grantaire’s shoulder and Grantaire gripped his ribs. 

“It’s a little awkward, I know, but it looks really good on stage. So, just do the basic step with me. One, forward, shift, back, one, back, shift, back. There, keep it up.”

Enjolras relaxed his arm some and tried to get a little closer to Grantaire. 

“No, no,” Grantaire immediately said. “Hold out your arms again, see, this is your dance space,” he said, and then he held out his own arms in the same fashion. “This is mine. You don’t step into my space and I don’t step into yours. That’s how falls happen and stepping on toes and other atrocious things. Try again.”

So they tried again. And again. And again. Enjolras couldn’t keep his arms rigid enough and he still kept wanting to step forward on beat one, and Grantaire’s hands were sweaty and his hair was all in his face and Enjolras kept thinking about what would happen if he stepped too far ahead and fell back, and Grantaire ended up on top of him. His thoughts were not easy to control in the heat, or with Grantaire shirtless in front of him, holding his hand tightly. 

“Okay, alright,” Grantaire said, stepping away from Enjolras right as he moved to step forward on beat one. 

“Sorry,” Enjolras said. Grantaire cut off the music. 

“I’m done with you today. Probably tomorrow, too. I can’t keep letting Eponine take over my classes all the time. I’ll get some of the other dancers to try and teach you tomorrow.”

It stung, of course, but Enjolras had kind of seen it coming. He sucked.

“I’m sorry, Grantaire, I’ll try harder,” he said, still breathing heavily. Grantaire wouldn’t meet his eye, he just stormed past him, grabbed his bag and shoes, and left Enjolras alone in his studio. 

Enjolras stood there for a second, then sat down on the clean floor, then laid back and stared at the ceiling. There was a long week ahead of him. 

And it was a long week. Grantaire arranged it so a different dancer was to tutor him every day until the performance. They would get the morning and afternoon, and then after dinner he’d go back to his cabin to rest.

The next day, Thursday, one week before the actual performance, Combeferre waited for Enjolras in Grantaire’s studio that morning. As he opened the door and walked in, Combeferre smiled at him. 

“Hello, Angel,” he said. “Grantaire asked me to work with you this morning with the basics of ballet, and then in the afternoon we’ll work on the Mambo. I thought learning the basics of a different kind of dance would help give you sort of a break from all the quick movements in the Mambo. I find ballet more relaxing, but it still somehow takes more focus than any other kind of dance. First, we’ll start with basic foot positions.” 

They went through first position all the way to sixth, and Enjolras was proud of himself that he didn’t fall yet. 

They went through the rest of the morning do repeating the same ballet basics until Enjolras felt like he was at least semi-competent. Combeferre stayed focused, dodging any questions Enjolras asked him about Grantaire until lunch. 

“How is Courfeyrac?” Combeferre said lightly as they ate. Enjolras tried his best not to smile.

“He’s great, a little lonely sometimes when Cosette isn’t around.”

Combeferre blinked, and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Oh, are he and Cosette like-”

Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh. “No, absolutely not.”

“Good.”

“Why good?” Enjolras asked, raising his eyebrows at Combeferre, who just scowled back at him. 

“Courfeyrac and I have just been hanging out more, he’s doing one of the morning classes I teach, and I was just curious.”

“I’d say he’s a bit curious, too,” Enjolras suggested. 

“What does that mean?” Combeferre asked. 

“I mean that you should  _ talk _ to him, I think,” Enjolras said. “I’ll leave it at that.”

Enjolras didn’t say anything about it, of course, but he noticed that after lunch Combeferre seemed much more excited about everything, and also more eager to get done teaching Enjolras so he could speak to Courfeyrac, Enjolras was sure. 

It was almost time for dinner, and Combeferre stepped away from him and simply said, “Do the arm thing and stand on one foot.”

Enjolras did, stretching out both of his arms away from his body like Combeferre had taught him, and it took him maybe thirty seconds before he lost his balance.

“Balance is  _ everything _ in dance. Balance is your confidence in yourself and your dancing, you just have to find it. Try again.” 

Enjolras made it to about 45 seconds that time. 

“Angel,” Combeferre said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “For guys most of the time, our center of balance is in our shoulders. Try to feel it and even it out through your body, all the way to your toes. Also, listen. I understand these last two days have been hard on you, and it is only going to get harder, but if you have even a  _ speck  _ of doubt in yourself you’re not going to make it. I know you haven’t danced before and it’s only in a week, but you have to trust yourself. Now, try again.” 

Enjolras slowly lifted his foot and placed it on his other knee, and tried to find his center of balance. He took a deep breath and got rid of all his negative thoughts about himself, and instead just focused on his breath and maintaining balance. 

“Good,” Combeferre said. It had been over two minutes, at that point, and Enjolras looked up at him. “That was good, you can stop. Now, as good as just focusing like that is, it won’t build up all the muscles you need to actually hold yourself up when you’re focused on other aspects of dance. So I suggest  relevés at the barre to work out your ankles and calves and crunches as often as you can without it being weird. The more muscle you build up in your core and legs, the easier all of this will be. Go on to dinner now, Angel. You’ve done well. And if you see Courfeyrac before I do, tell him I said hello.”

The next day, 6 days before the performance, Musichetta was waiting for him in the studio, wearing a crop top and shorts and a smile on her face. Enjolras’s mood, originally sour because of his sore legs, immediately improved. 

“Hey, Angel!” she said, beaming up at him from where she sat in the middle of the floor. Enjolras took off his shoes and socks and sat on the floor in front of her. “Just stretch or whatever for now. I’m sure you’re sore and tired as hell. Drink some water, chillax.” 

So he chillaxed. He stretched all of the muscles he knew he had, taking deep breaths, while Musichetta tapped away on her MP3. She reminded him of Cosette, except with bigger hair and nicer. 

“How was Combeferre? He impart some wisdom on you?” she asked. 

“Yeah, he did actually,” Enjolras said. 

“Well, don’t expect as much from me. Go drink some water and we’ll get started. Grantaire was all ‘oh, you have to teach angel all of the Mambo shit,’ so I’m gonna go over the basics of that with you, but after that I wanna teach you how to  _ like _ dancing. I mean, doing the parties with Grantaire grinding against you like that,  _ that’s _ fun, but actually dancing for an audience is different.”

“He wasn’t  _ grinding _ on me,” Enjolras said after a long drink of water, his cheeks burning. 

“No, he definitely was, he told me,” Musichetta said, laughing. He set down his bottle and walked over and stood above her, frowning while she giggled. “Oh, he knew what he was doing, Angel. Trust me.”

“What did he say about me?” Enjolras asked. 

“That’s for me to know and you to find out. Anyways, Mambo time, I guess. Hold on,” she said, standing up and dashing to the other side of the room, hooking up her MP3 to a speaker, and she pressed play as a song Enjolras didn’t recognize came on. 

“What is this?” Enjolras asked.

“The Jonas Brothers, they’re kinda new but I like them,” she smiled, and held out her arms. Enjolras stepped into them and got into position, and followed her lead as she did the mambo to the beat. It felt wrong, he’d only done the mambo to mambo-esque songs, but Musichetta was smiling and singing along and she didn’t yell at him when he stepped on her toes. She just kept going.

It took a while, but Enjolras got the hint that she was trying to lead him around the room, and so he trusted her as they moved around in circles throughout the room. Enjolras found himself smiling and relaxing into the music as the album played. She led him through some of the turns that Grantaire had gone over the first day, except this time they made sense and he was relaxed enough to actually do them and trust Musichetta enough to keep him steady. 

The morning was a success, and as the album played over and over Enjolras found himself singing along. He needed to tell Cosette about this band as soon as he got to dinner. 

At lunch, Joly and Bossuet appeared, carrying boxes of food and laughing. Musichetta smiled bright as the sun when they came through the door, and hugged them both as soon as they sat down the food. 

“Hey, Angel! How goes the dancing?” Joly asked as Enjolras walked over to the edge of the floor where they all stood. 

“Great, actually,” he said. “What’s all this for?”

“Musichetta asked me to get you guys some food and bring it up here for you, and here it is!” Joly laughed, motioning to the 12 or so boxes he brought. 

“We literally cannot eat all of this,” Musichetta said.

“That’s why I brought Bossuet,” Joly said, and Bossuet smiled. 

“Can we eat outside?” Musichetta said. “Like a picnic?”

“Sure, why not? You coming, Angel?”

“Sure,” he said, picking up a few of the warm styrofoam boxes. Everyone else picked up a few and soon enough they were walking up the hillside facing a lake and forest far below, talking and laughing. 

“Guys, holy shit, you’re not gonna believe what Angel tried to tell me,” Musichetta said as they all sat down in a semi-circle, the sun behind them. “So, I was talking about how dancing normally was fun but, like, in a different way than grinding on the dancefloor was right? And he said- get this- he said that Grantaire  _ wasn’t really  _ grinding on him.”

“Musichetta, I-” before he could continue, Joly and Bossuet burst into laughter so hard they started crying. 

“Did he- did he really fucking say that?” Joly asked. 

“Yes! I did, and I still stand by it. We were dancing, not just grinding.” 

“Bullshit,” Bossuet said, still laughing. “Bull. Shit.”

“Literally, he’s trying to have sex with you, let’s not beat around the bush. Which we’re all aware of, but still, he doesn’t want to start having feelings for you, you know? So he handed you to us so we could deal with teaching you because he doesn’t trust himself.”

“Why doesn’t he want to have feelings?” Enjolras asked.

“Some say,” Joly said, his voice dramatic as if he was telling a scary story, “That Grantaire hasn’t had feelings in  _ years! _ ”

“He’s got an intimacy thing,” Musichetta explained. “No one knows. Well, maybe Eponine, but she doesn’t tell anyone’s secrets for anything.”

“Huh,” Enjolras said, and they went on talking about the classes they were helping with and the meals Joly was preparing and they ate their food happily. 

Five days before the performance, Enjolras practiced his steps all the way up to the studio, and when he opened the door, two men he didn’t recognize stood in the middle of the floor, illuminated in the morning sunlight. Their foreheads were pressed together despite the obvious height difference and they were talking quietly. The shorter man, standing on his tip-toes for some extra height, had very  _ very  _ ginger hair and he wore too-small jeans and a nametag that Enjolras couldn’t read on his shirt. The other man was much more likely to be his instructor- he wore a tanktop and sweatpants and his long, dark hair was pulled up into a bun, and a full-blown beard that Enjolras could only dream of having. 

Enjolras cleared his throat. 

“Looks like your student is here,” the shorter one said, smiling and gently placing a kiss on the other man’s lips. “Don’t have too much fun without me! Bye, Baz, and hello, Angel!” 

He let the door slam shut behind him as he raced down the steps, and Enjolras was left in the room alone with a man at least three times his size who he certainly did not know. He smiled down at Enjolras and approached him, and it took all of Enjolras’s willpower not to back up on instinct. 

“What’s up? I’m Bahorel, I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m one of the dancers and also a teacher here, but Grantaire’s teaching my boxing class today so I get to spend it with you. That was Feuilly, who just left, he’s gonna be your instructor tomorrow. You know, Grantaire's really doing some work making sure that he doesn’t have to teach you again.” 

Enjolras didn’t know what to say to that, and he imagined that saying the wrong thing would cause him to have a black eye, so he just nodded. 

“Anyways, it doesn’t really matter, because I’m a bit tired of teaching boxing to a bunch of entitled white boys, so I count this as a bit of a vacation from the routine. Anyways, I originally was gonna just say fuck it and we could both go back to sleep, but Grantaire said if he found out he’d kick my ass, and I don’t really think he could do that but I don’t want that idiot annoying me so whatever. Go stretch and shit, I’m gonna put on some music.” 

Enjolras could do nothing but blink as Bahorel turned away towards the iPod dock. He took his time stretching, as it seemed that Bahorel was in no rush, and once music actually started playing, he let out a snort. It was NSYNC, that one song that Cosette loved. Bahorel whipped around to glare at Enjolras, who froze.

“Sorry, it’s just, my sister is obsessed with this song,” Enjolras explained. Bahorel shrugged, and walked over to him. 

“Alright, you stretched out?”

“Yeah.”

Bahorel smiled at him, a suspicious hint of mischief in his eye, and then shook his head. 

“No, you’re not.” 

Bahorel then promptly bent down and secured an arm around Enjolras’s hip, and tossed him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Enjolras naturally let out a shriek at an inhumanly high pitch. 

“What the  _ fuck! _ ” Enjolras yelled as Bahorel paraded around the room with him over his shoulder, laughing and singing along to the song. Enjolras pounded on Bahorel’s back to no avail. Bahorel bounced around, shaking Enjolras to his core and popping every single bone in his body, and as the song ended, he let Enjolras down to the ground gracelessly. 

“What the hell was  _ that? _ ” Enjolras fumed, while Bahorel just laughed. 

“Getting you stretched out!” Bahorel said, raising his hands innocently. 

Enjolras pouted, because he was right, he was stretched out more, but he also didn’t exactly enjoy how he’d gotten to that state. 

“Listen kid, Grantaire’s a bit  _ impulsive _ to say the least, so he might end up pulling some shit like that. You gotta be prepared for anything that he, or  _ anyone, _ throws at you. Plus, new perspective and all that. Jehan would say the same thing.”

“Who is Jehan?”

“Oh, dude, shit you haven’t met them yet? Jehan’s great, they’re into poetry and all that, and they do gardening around here and as a class. Jehan’s the only one who can keep Montparnasse off everyone’s asses all the time. You know Monty, right?”

“Yeah, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him,” Enjolras said, trying not to let any malice seep into his voice. Bahorel saw through it easily, and laughed it off. 

“He’s a pleasure. Anyways, show me your moves, Angel. Let’s get this over with.” 

The next few days before the performance passed quickly. Feuilly’s day came after Bahorel’s, and the next three days he spent with Eponine, which had surprised him at first. He immediately tried to ask her questions, but she made it very clear that she wasn’t in the mood to answer any, so eventually he just shut his mouth and let her guide him across the dance floor. They were silent mostly, which helped Enjolras focus entirely on the dance. 

On the third day, the day before the performance, Eponine took Enjolras outside so they could eat their lunch on the porch. Her dark hair was pulled up and she was sweaty but still excited, and when the sun shone on her face she tilted her head towards it and smiled. Enjolras smiled, too. 

“Grantaire said you wanted to go to the Peace Corps after college,” Eponine said. It was the first time she had spoken directly to him about something other than dancing.

“Yeah, I want to help with activism across the nation and world, do volunteering and stuff,” Enjolras said, taking a bite of the sandwich Eponine had given to him inside. Eponine nodded approvingly.

“My parents usually just hassled and pickpocketed volunteers whenever they’d come to our shitty side of town.”

“That’s awful,” Enjolras frowned.

“Yeah, but I didn’t understand anything back then, I was like, 8 at the most. I still knew that I wanted to do dancing, even back then.”

“So you really do like dancing, not just as a hobby?”

Eponine sighed and furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s complicated. I like it fine, but I can’t do it for the rest of my life, and it doesn’t exactly pay well to go around instructing people when you don’t even have a college degree or an actual  _ home _ .” 

“What else would you want to do?”

“Something with web design, maybe, or just design in general. Or… I’ve always kind of wanted to be a veterinarian.”

“A vet?”

“Yeah, like help sick puppies and whatever,” Eponine said, her cheeks quickly turning red. “It’s not like that’ll ever happen, with my financial situation or lack thereof, but a girl can dream, right?”

“I think it’s great you want to be a vet,” Enjolras smiled. Eponine squinted at him, trying to tell if he was joking or not. “I’m serious. The world needs more people like you who want to help others, even animals, because they actually care about who or what they’re helping, and not just the money that comes with it.”

“Well, the money’s not half bad, either,” Eponine said, smiling to herself. “But, I mean, I have been looking at colleges and trying to save up for at least a semester. There’s one around here that looks cool, and I’ve gone to a few open lectures there. And I’ve been signing up for scholarships when possible, but the little financial aid I get is barely enough to get me enough food for the month, much less enough to start saving up for a college. I think after another few months of somewhat-consistent payment from here and the Sewers’ place, and the few odd jobs I do, I should have enough to at least apply and see what they can help me with.”

“You’ll make it,” Enjolras said. “That sounds great, though. I mean it.”

“Thanks, Angel,” she smiled, and they went back to eating their lunch in the sunshine.

When the day of the performance came, Enjolras was bursting with excitement to show Grantaire what he had learned. Eponine had taught him the final moves for the whole dance and they’d run through it up until the end the whole afternoon the day before. 

When he got to Grantaire’s studio that rainy morning, Grantaire wasn’t there, like he’d thought he would be. Instead, standing in the studio, was none other than Montparnasse. He was clothed in all black, looking distinctly out of place among the morning light surrounding him. Enjolras took a deep breath, and entered the studio. 

“There you are,” Monty said. “You ready?” 

Enjolras held his composure. “I haven’t stretched yet.”

“Do that, then.”

Enjolras stretched as Montparnasse watched him. “Will Grantaire be stopping by later?” 

“Don’t know,” Monty said. “I’m supposed to teach you this last part, the lift, that happens at the end. It’s not too hard, just takes lots of core muscle. Come on.” 

Enjolras stopped stretching, probably too early, and turned to face him. 

“Is that where you lift me up into the hair?” 

“No, it’s where I cast a spell on you and make you float up to the ceiling like an annoying balloon.  _ Yes, _ it’s where I lift you in the air. First, just run at me with your arms up in the air, and try and run more on the balls of your feet and get some momentum. I’m not gonna pick you up yet, but you’ve gotta get used to it. So, start over there,” he said, pointing to the opposite end of the floor, “and run over to me.” 

No problems arose until that afternoon. 

It was still raining outside, Grantaire still hadn’t stopped by, and the tension between Enjolras and Montparnasse was beginning to spike. Several time Enjolras had to bite his tongue after Monty said something even slightly bigoted, and Monty didn’t seem to be having the time of his life with Enjolras either. 

“You just have to  _ trust me _ , damnit, even if just for a second, I’m not gonna fucking drop you,” Montparnasse insisted for the hundredth time that hour. Enjolras knew that he was probably telling the truth, but it didn’t make him trust Monty any more. 

“I don’t understand why Grantaire can’t teach me this,” Enjolras said. 

“Fine, fucking fine, if you get it right and trust me on this one then we can stop for the day, and I’ll go find your precious Grantaire and we can be done with this.” 

Enjolras stopped, and blinked at the fuming Montparnasse. 

“You promise?”

“Sure, whatever, just do this right once so I can leave.” 

Enjolras didn’t have to be told twice. He positioned himself on the far side of the floor, watching as Montparnasse reached his arms towards Enjolras, and gave a small nod. Enjolras darted across the floor, desperately pretending that it was Grantaire and not Montparnasse about to push him up off the ground, and he felt firm hands around his waist, his momentum pulling him up into the air, and for a moment he was suspended there. 

He opened his eyes just in time to see how high he was, and Montparnasse smirking below him, and fear hit him like lightning. He surged forward with a yelp, and suddenly the ground was rushing to meet his face. 

In half a second, Enjolras’s entire face was in pain and all he could taste was blood. 

“Shit,” Montparnasse said. “Shit. Stay here, fuck.” 

Enjolras heard the door shut but saw none of it. He curled up on the ground, stunned and confused. Things came back to him slowly.   
Firstly, there was lots of blood. It dripped from his nose and lip onto the clean studio floor, and Enjolras could only watch. Adrenaline still surged in him, so he sat up with minimal pain, and looked into the mirror beside him. 

There was a bright red mark on his forehead, and his nose was bleeding heavily and his lip was busted, but besides that and a few rubbed scrapes on his arms, he was fine. He didn’t think anything was broken. He leaned his head towards the floor, remembering something about nosebleeds and letting the blood flow so it didn’t get in his throat, and waited. 

A decently sized puddle of blood was on the ground by the time the door re-opened. Enjolras glanced up through his hair to see Grantaire at the door, pale as a ghost, and Montparnasse (maybe) talking behind him. Enjolras waved half-heartedly at Grantaire. 

“What the fuck did you do, Angel?” Grantaire said to him, not even bothering to take off his shoes as he ran onto the studio floor towards Enjolras. He knelt beside him and slowly put his finger under Enjolras’s chin, tilting it up so Grantaire could see him. Enjolras’s heart surged in his chest at the gentleness of it. This was the first time he’d seen Grantaire in over a week, and he’d thought that maybe the crush he had on him would subside, but it turned out the opposite was true. 

“I’m scared of heights, I guess,” Enjolras said. 

“Monty, get some paper towels from the bathroom,” Grantaire spat, and Montparnasse just nodded and disappeared off to the bathroom. 

“Was it his fault?” Grantaire asked. 

“No, I got scared and-”

“Where’s the mat?”

“What mat?”

“The mat that he was supposed to put below you when you practiced this so you wouldn’t break your  _ fucking nose _ if you fell,” Grantaire said, rage in his eyes. “He didn’t put it out. Is anything broken?” 

“No,” Enjolras said. “It’s just bloody.” 

“I’m going to kill him,” Grantaire said through gritted teeth. “I swear to God, I’m gonna kill him.” 

“But-”

“Angel, don’t. Just don’t right now, okay?” Grantaire said softly, the pushed back some of Enjolras’s hair behind his ear and pressed a kiss to his forehead. A small part of Enjolras’s brain registered that it hurt, but the vast majority of his brain went completely quiet. 

When Monty reappeared, a roll of paper towels in hand, Grantaire took them, handed the roll to Enjolras, and shoved Montparnasse up against the studio wall by his collar. 

“Grantaire, what the fuck are you doing,” Monty said poisonously. 

“Do you know what happens if Angel can’t dance tonight? Do you have any  _ fucking _ clue why this is so important? If no one is up there dancing with me, Ep’ and I lose our entire month’s salary for our  Sewers’ Hall performances, which is where we get our money that we need for things like  _ food _ and  _ water _ and  _ shelter _ once the season here is over and we get kicked out. If we don’t get this money, we will not have enough money to be able to rent any place out after we’re done at Hugo’s, and we will be homeless and broke. Do you understand?”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Monty said. 

“Angel could have gotten very seriously hurt, and if that had happened, then we couldn’t do the performance since I can’t get anyone else out of work tonight. Now, I’m going to ask this once very nicely. Where is the mat that I told you to put out when you were practicing the lift?” 

Enjolras finished wiping up the blood on the floor as Monty said, “He’s not gonna have a mat on stage to catch him tonight, Grantaire.” 

“So you decided to put his life in danger while he was still  _ learning _ this technique just so it would be  _ realistic _ , huh?” 

“It’s not my fault he fell,” Monty retorted. “It was fine until  _ he _ fucked up.”

“I don’t give a single shit, Montparnasse. It was your job to ensure his safety, and you failed. Now get the fuck out of my studio.” 

Grantaire let Monty down, who quickly pulled on his shoes and left, scowling, and Grantaire sat beside Enjolras as he waited for his nose to stop bleeding. Waves of anger still radiated off of him as he sat with his muscles clenched, staring out the window. Enjolras wanted to say something, to thank him or ask how is week had been or  _ anything _ , but he kept his mouth shut. 

His nose stopped bleeding after a while and he took the bloody paper towels out of his nose, and got up and put all of the used towels in the trash can, and then he went back to Grantaire and sat beside him. He still didn’t look at Enjolras, but he seemed a bit more relaxed. 

“Nothing’s broken, and I don’t think I have a concussion,” Enjolras said quietly. “I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not,” Grantaire muttered, his eyes flickering over to Enjolras’s face. He leaned over and wiped just under his lip, at a drop of blood, probably, and rubbed it on his pants. “I cannot fucking believe him.” 

“He’s right, though,” Enjolras said. “The performance is tonight and there’s no second chances if I fuck up. I don’t want to ruin this for you.” 

Grantaire looked at him, his face contorted in such a way that it looked like he was physically in pain, and sighed. Enjolras noticed every muscle in his face and all of the planes in it and the stubble and scars and freckles. He blinked and looked away. 

“It’s not fair,” Grantaire whispered.

“What?” 

“I just-” Grantaire started, then stopped as he looked at Enjolras. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go.”

Grantaire stood up and helped Enjolras slowly get uop. “Go where?” 

“Somewhere that isn’t here.” 

The rain pouring outside did nothing to slow down Grantaire’s strides as he led Enjolras through the property. He led him all the way to the other side to the parking lot, unlocked a shitty-looking tiny black car, and dropped into the driver’s seat. Enjolras delicately sat in the passenger’s seat, trying to ignore all of the receipts and cigarette packages at his feet. 

“It’s a shitty car, I know,” Grantaire admitted, starting the car and turning on the windshield wipers, “but it’s what I’ve got. You want a cigarette?” 

Enjolras quickly shook his head as Grantaire pulled a pack out of the console and lit one up. Enjolras nodded, watching the smoke curl around his face and out from between his lips with poorly-disguised infatuation. He thought Grantaire might be smirking as he pulled out of the parking lot, and they headed away from Hugo’s Paradise. . 

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that Grantaire spoke. “How was training with the other guys?” 

“It was fine,” Enjolras said. 

“Sorry for ditching you on the first day, it’s just, there’s only so much I alone can do.”

“It’s alright. Is Eponine okay?”

“You talked to her yesterday,” Grantaire said, smiling. “This morning she was nervous, but fine. Marius took her just before Montparnasse came and got me, so she’ll probably be back by the time we get back to Hugo’s tonight.”

“Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“It’s  _ Eponine, _ ” Grantaire said, like that explained it all. “She’s practically unkillable. She’ll be fine.” 

Enjolras sighed. “Where are we going, anyways?” 

“Not sure yet,” Grantaire said. They had stayed to the side roads so far, winding down the hills and into the trees.

“Really?”

“Nah, I know where we’re going, but I’m not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“That ruins the fun of it, I think. Knowing where you are, that you aren’t lost. It’s boring to always know what you’re doing.”

“So you just go to the opposite end of the spectrum and  _ never _ know what you’re doing?” Enjolras guessed, and Grantaire laughed and nodded. 

“Precisely,” he said, pulling onto a dirt road. It had stopped raining, thankfully, and the sun was beginning to come back out. “My life’s never boring that way. You’re never lost if you don’t know where you’re going.” 

“That’s… fair,” Enjolras said. 

“Anyways, here we are,” Grantaire said as they came to a dead end in the dirt path. Grantaire parked the car and hopped out, Enjolras not far behind, and Grantaire led him through an overgrown footpath until they reached a creek. Everything was still muddy and wet, but he didn’t mind as long as Grantaire was there. 

It was loud in the forest, Enjolras realized, with wind blowing in the trees and birds chirping and the stream gushing below them. He was annoyed with it in the moment, remembering reading about how quiet and peaceful forests could be, until Grantaire turned back towards him and smiled. With all that sunny green surrounding him and a daring, genuinely happy look in his eyes, Enjolras couldn’t help but grin back at him, and all of his annoyance was gone. 

“Come on, dance with me,” Grantaire said. 

“Where?”

Grantaire motioned to the tiny, thin tree that had fallen over the creek and created a makeshift bridge over to the other side. “It’s all about balance!” Grantaire said, stepping backwards onto the tree carefully.

“No way, I am  _ not _ getting on that thing,” Enjolras laughed, as Grantaire grabbed one of his hands and pulled him onto the tree behind him. 

“Angel,” he whined, “please?” 

Enjolras was weak. He was weak and fell too easily for shit like this. 

He acknowledged that in his own head, sighed, toed off his shoes and set a shaky foot onto the tree. Grantaire laughed brilliantly. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he encouraged. “Come on, other foot now.” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and stepped onto the log with his other foot and carefully let Grantaire lead him out until they were suspended above the middle of the creek, clutching each other’s arms for balance. 

Grantaire rearranged their arms and hands until they were in position to do the mambo. 

“You’re kidding.”

“Afraid not, Angel. Remember all the shit Combeferre taught you. Now, one,  _ two _ , come on Angel we don’t have all day.” 

“I’m going to fall,” Enjolras said.

“And I’ll fall with you,” Grantaire said, smiling down at him. Enjolras bit his lip, focused on his center of balance, and slowly danced with Grantaire. 

It took exactly twenty seconds for them to fall. They were laughing and someone lost their grip, he couldn’t tell who it had been, and they both slipped off the log and into the creek. 

It was gloriously cold in contrast to the humidity that had been pressing on them ever since they got out of the car, and deep enough so neither of them got hurt while hitting the bottom of the creek, and they both came back up laughing. 

“That was  _ so  _ your fault,” Enjolras said, pushing his hair back behind his ears. Grantaire flipped his head up, droplets of water getting on Enjolras as his hair was flung back, and his jaw dropped, mock-offended. 

“Absolutely not! That was  _ all _ you, Angel.”

“You pulled me down with you!”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Fuck you, Angel,” Grantaire growled as he lunged towards Enjolras, and he shrieked as Grantaire tackled him into the water. When they came back up, Enjolras retaliated by splashing water onto Grantaire, which didn’t seem to annoy him that much, so instead Enjolras surged forward and tried to tackle Grantaire. 

He staggered back for a moment, but ultimately the attack did nothing, and now Enjolras was just clutching Grantaire’s waist as he laughed above Enjolras. 

“Why won’t you fall  _ over _ ,” Enjolras panted, trying to push against Grantaire’s chest again, to no avail. Instead, Grantaire grabbed Enjolras under his arms and lifted him into the air with ease.

“You are  _ just _ like Bahorel!” Enjolras shrieked, and Grantaire tossed him back-first into the water. Enjolras came back up quickly, glaring at Grantaire, who laughed helplessly, clutching his stomach. 

“You look like a cat,” Grantaire rasped. 

“You look like a bitch!” Enjolras snapped back, smiling at his own stupid comeback. 

“Ouch,” Grantaire said. “That one really hurt, babe. Why don’t you come here and hug me to make it better?”

“Oh no  _ way, _ you’re just gonna toss me in the water again,” Enjolras said, folding his arms. Grantaire shook his head innocently, but his the smirk on his face said enough. 

“No, I would  _ never _ do that to you, Angel,” Grantaire said, slowly approaching him. 

“You just did!” 

“Well, maybe you’re right, but that was the  _ past. _ Aren’t you Peace Corps type always willing to forgive?”

“Not necessarily, the Peace Corps actually do more work with-” before he could continue educating Grantaire about the Peace Corps, he was already upon him, with his arms locked around his legs and slamming him into the water. 

And in the mess of it all, with the cold water and warm bodies and laughter and squealing, Grantaire’s lips found Enjolras’s, and they kissed. 

Everything in Enjolras’s head short-circuited. Grantaire tasted like creek water and cigarette smoke, and his mouth was slightly open and Enjolras had to be on his toes to reach him, and Grantaire’s hands were pressed against his back and Enjolras’s hands were in Grantaire’s hair. Grantaire bit Enjolras’s lip delicately as he pulled away, his expression emotionless besides how blown-out his pupils were. Enjolras just blinked at him, his mouth hanging open, brain still not quite functioning. 

And then Grantaire smiled. 

Enjolras smiled back, and words spilled out of him giddily, before he could stop himself. “Holy shit, Grantaire, I- wow, um, can we do that again? I mean, not if you don’t want to, of course, but that was just. Really nice, and, yeah.”

Grantaire just laughed, and for a moment Enjolras’s heart dropped, because why would he be  _ laughing? _

“You are such a fucking dork,” Grantaire said, placing his fingers just under Enjolras’s jaw. The light hit all of the droplets on Grantaire’s skin, making him sparkle, and Enjolras was having a religious experience. He just stared eagerly up at Grantaire. “You know, the talent show is coming up. Maybe you and I could dance up on stage instead. I always take the last dance.”

“Yeah, Courfeyrac said something about that the first time I saw you.”

Grantaire’s gaze flickered down from Enjolras’s face, and his expression closed back into what it normally was, and stepped away. “Let’s practice the lift.” 

“Grantaire-”

“No better place to do it than in the water, right?” Grantaire said, smiling only with his mouth. “Just run at me, Angel. If you fall, you get a face full of water instead of wooden floor.”

Enjolras nodded, and tried to understand what had caused that moment to end. Just a second before, Grantaire had been looking at him like Enjolras was his whole world, but now his gaze was guarded and focused. 

Enjolras ran to him, but he didn’t gain nearly enough momentum, and hopped helplessly up at him. Grantaire said nothing, unlike what Montparnasse would have done, and let him try again. 

He messed up three times before he actually got it. 

Suspended up in the air like that, water dripping onto Grantaire as he smiled up at him, he felt like he was flying. It was cheesy, but it was true. He curled his body the proper way and looked out into the woods, sighing with relief. 

After a long minute of this, Grantaire set him back down into the creek. 

“Good. Again.”

So they did it again and again, until the sun threatened to set and they decided they needed to get back to Hugo’s to change. They pulled themselves out of the creek and into the warm air, and Enjolras wanted to kiss Grantaire. They walked to the car and Grantaire frowned as he stuck the keys in the ignition, and he wanted to kiss him. It was torture. 

“Were you serious?” Enjolras asked. “About doing the talent show thing with me?”

“Well, if Eponine isn’t better by then, then yes. But hopefully she will be.”

“Hopefully.”

They drove back and arrived just as dinner ended, and Enjolras went off to his house, with nothing to do but wait until it was time to go. He sat on his bed and tried to think of what went wrong. 

It had to have been something Enjolras did, right? Was it the awkward ranting? Did he kiss wrong? He hadn’t exactly kissed many people, he had no idea if he did it right, but he still wasn’t sure. 

Soon, Cosette came back, and all of his problems seemed a little bit better as she beamed at him. 

“You’re back early! Oh, tonight’s the night of the  _ performance _ , no wonder I haven’t seen Marius today. Why’s your lip busted?”

“I fell,” he said, and she sat beside him on his bed, examining his mouth closely. 

“Hmm, well, I can fix it up with makeup. Go take a shower, you smell like dirt. Make sure to brush your hair out.”

“Do you know what I’m supposed to wear and everything?” he asked.

“Yes, Eponine charged me with the task of getting you ready tonight, and I don’t want to fail her. I’ve told Valjean and Fantine that you’re going out to eat with the dance instructor tonight, so they shouldn’t worry at all. Not that they have been, they’re actually quite excited about you getting into something that isn’t about politics. Anyways, I’m gonna have to make you look pretty androgynous if we don’t want all the people at Sewers’ to get upset, which sucks, but it’s fine. Just go take a shower and put this one once you’re done.”

She pulled a stretchy tank-top, some tighty-whities, and some proper tights out of a drawer and tossed it to him. 

“Oh my god,” Enjolras muttered. 

“I know, not the most comfortable clothing, but there’ll be other stuff we put on top of it, so don’t fret. Just go.” 

So Enjolras went.

He took his shower and brushed out his hair, put on the obscenely tight clothing, did his best to dry his hair and stepped out. Cosette was listening to music, and grimaced as Enjolras stepped out. 

“Yeah, let’s get some more clothes on you,” she said, tossing a pink button-up at him and a pair of  _ her  _ black skinny jeans. “Don’t stretch out my jeans.”

“Why do I have to wear the tights under the jeans?” Enjolras asked, holding up the too-small pants against his waist. 

“Eponine said it’s required for dancers to wear tights and an undershirt no matter what. Just put it on so I can get started on your makeup. 

He pulled on the pants (with great difficulty) and buttoned up the shirt, and stepped back out into the bedroom. Cosette stood up, nodded approvingly, and sat him down on her bed. 

He felt like he was at the dentist’s office. Cosette had two lamps shined on his face and she was working furiously on his left eye. He had no idea what he looked like, and he didn’t really  _ want _ to know. He was sure it was fine, but Cosette sometimes went a bit overboard with makeup, which seemed to be the case here. 

There were two loud bangs on the door that led outside, and then it opened. Enjolras moved to turn around and see who it was, but Cosette said, “I swear to the lord above Angel if you move I will rip your fucking eyes out,” and then, to whoever had just entered their room, “Grantaire! You look lovely. I’m nearly done with Angel. You wanna see?”

Enjolras slowly opened his eyes to see Cosette and Grantaire standing above him. Grantaire was dressed in a fine suit with a pink tie, that matched the color of Enjolras’s shirt, and a small smile on his face. His hair was done up nicely for once and he had shaved. 

“Hey, Angel,” Grantaire said. “Lookin’ good.” 

Enjolras swallowed, trying not to bite his lip. “Thanks. You too.”

“Okay, hold on, let me just,” Cosette said, pulling out a spray bottle. “Close your eyes.”

Enjolras shut his eyes and braced for impact, but he still jumped when she sprayed some of the cold, foul-smelling liquid onto his face. 

“Can I go?” Enjolras said, cracking one eye open. Cosette smiled down at him, and patted the bun she had pulled Enjolras’s hair into. 

“Yeah, you two have fun. Do well, Angel!” 

“I’ll try,” he said, and he followed Grantaire out the door and into the night. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember to comment/leave kudos! thanks <3


	4. Chapter Four

The performance was over as quickly as it had begun. 

Enjolras only remembered it in pieces. 

When they had arrived, they were ushered backstage to stretch, and they practiced silently, waltzing around the crowded area until some man found them and dragged them onstage. 

He remembered the breath he took just before the music started, Grantaire smiling down at him, the spotlights glaring down. 

And the music started. 

And they danced. 

Enjolras remembered every time he messed up. Eponine had taught him to just play it off, but it was hard to just pick up and keep going after you miss the beat and then the whole rhythm gets messed up. 

He couldn’t manage the lift. He didn’t have enough momentum as he darted across the stage, and Grantaire realized it at the last minute and instead grabbed Enjolras’s hand and led him in a series of rapid spins, until Enjolras squeezed Grantaire’s hand to get him to stop, and Grantaire dipped Enjolras so low his back popped at the very end, and everyone applauded, and it was over. 

They walked off stage together, smiling for the crowd, but said nothing as a man handed Grantaire two envelopes and they walked back to the car. 

Enjolras didn’t find the courage to speak until they were far down the road, away from Sewers’. 

“That was… fun,” he remarked, yawning. 

“Yeah, and now it’s all over. You can go back to doing all the stuff you actually  _ wanted _ to do during vacation instead of busting your ass dancing around.” 

“What?” Enjolras said, looking over at Grantaire. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard, and his jaw was clenched as he glared at the road ahead. 

“I  _ said, _ you won’t have to spend all your waking hours learning to dance anymore. Eponine got her abortion and we got the money, so now you can get back to planning the revolution or whatever you want to do.” 

“Do you really think I want to go back to just doing  _ whatever _ back at Hugo’s? Grantaire, just this past week I’ve learned so much and I loved every second of it.”

“I doubt that,” Grantaire said.

“I did,” Enjolras insisted. “I loved that first day with you, I loved Combeferre teaching me ballet and Musichetta teaching me to actually  _ like _ dancing, and Bahorel scaring the shit out of me by picking me up and Feuilly teaching me how to work even harder and Eponine for  _ everything. _ Even today, with Montparnasse, I loved smashing my nose into the floor because I got to see you at the end of it, and that made it all okay.” 

Grantaire was quiet for a moment, and Enjolras just stared at him. 

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you can just  _ will _ me into believing you.” 

“I’m telling the truth.” 

“It’s not just that.”

“Then what is it?”

“You can’t just tell me that you never want to leave, and expect me to believe you and start  _ loving _ you or some dumb shit like that. At the end of the season, you’ll leave and go to the Peace Corps and become successful at everything you do, and you’ll forget all about me.”

“I won’t-”

“That’s how it  _ always happens _ ,” Grantaire spat. “Every single fucking time. Some pretty person like you comes along and I get all wrapped up in it, but not this time. I’m not teaching you to dance after this. You’re going to go back to Cosette and Courfeyrac and everyone else and you’re going to enjoy the rest of your vacation without me.”

“No, I won’t,” Enjolras said, exasperated. “That’s not how this just  _ happens _ , alright? You can’t tell me what I’m going to do and just avoid me for the rest of the season. I don’t  _ want _ you to.” 

“You’re just going to leave in the end and move on with your life,” said Grantaire. “No reason you should waste your time with me when I’m just going to get in the way of your future.” 

Grantaire stepped out of the car, and Enjolras realized that they were back at Hugo’s Paradise. They had been parked for at least a minute. 

“Grantaire, come  _ here, _ ” Enjolras begged. Grantaire kept walking. 

Enjolras was on the verge of tears. He didn’t _ want _ this. He couldn’t let it end like this. 

He ran up to Grantaire and pulled on his shoulder so he’d turn around and look at him. 

“Please don’t kiss me right now,” Grantaire said. 

“I- I wasn’t-” Enjolras stuttered. “Just, look. You aren’t getting in the way of anything. You never have. I’m not going to make any promises about staying here forever with you, because I do have a future, but I want  _ this _ right now. We can at least pretend to be lovers, even if only for the season. Plus, there’s things like  _ phones  _ now, and we can keep in touch. Attachment isn’t always bad or some sort of weakness, Grantaire. It’s  _ human _ and we all need it, and I… I want this, and I think you do too.” 

There was a beat of silence, where it was just the two of them and the world was empty.

“ _ Grantaire? _ ” someone shouted in the distance. 

Grantaire spun around to see someone clumsily running towards them from Hugo’s. Marius appeared a moment later, out of breath and doubled over. 

“Grantaire, it’s Eponine,” Marius said. “She’s- I don’t know, she’s in pain. Something went wrong during the thing and-”

“Where is she,” Grantaire said, fast as lightning. 

“Her cabin,” Marius said, and Grantaire sprinted up across the field before Enjolras had time to even react. 

“Do you know what went wrong?” Enjolras said, leading Marius back through the field towards the staff cabins at a slower pace. 

“No, I heard her crying out, but I couldn’t get in there. I thought she was fine and that it was all normal until I got her back and… there was just blood. Everywhere. It won’t stop, and I can’t get ahold of the doctor. I don’t think he was legitimate at all, it was shady. I just, I can’t believe I thought her screaming like that during the procedure was  _ normal _ .” 

“It’s not your fault,” Enjolras said, heading towards the staircase that led up to the staff cabins. “Don’t even begin to blame yourself, alright? It’s not your fault.”

“But-”

“Just hush, it’s going to be alright. We’ll figure out what to do,” said Enjolras. “Wait. Is Cosette there?”

“Cosette? No,” Marius said. 

“Marius, please, please,  _ please _ go get her. She’s going to kill me if I don’t get her and I need to make sure that Grantaire doesn’t do anything stupid. You know where to go?”

“Yeah, alright. I don’t really wanna go back in there anyways. It’s not fun. I’ll go get her,” Marius said, turning around and heading back down towards Enjolras and Cosette’s cabin. As Enjolras jogged the rest of the way to Eponine’s cabin, he nearly ran into someone walking down the stairs. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, and when he looked up it took him a minute to realize who it was.

It was Mrs. Thenardier, the “bungalow bunny” Courf had talked about the first day that they had been there. She had been flirting with Marius and Enjolras had noticed her glancing over at Grantaire occasionally. 

As he apologized, she began stuttering, as if caught red-handed doing something illegal. “Watch where you’re going, kid.”

“What were you doing up at the staff houses?” Enjolras asked, half-curious and half-accusatory. She gave him a fiery look. 

“Nothing. Get out of my way,” she snapped, and headed down the rest of the stairs, her black curly hair bouncing behind her. Enjolras was, of course, suspicious, but that didn’t matter at the moment. He headed up to Eponine’s cabin.

Inside, it reeked of blood. Grantaire knelt beside Eponine’s bed, holding her hand and talking to her as she whimpered. 

“Hey, Angel,” she said weakly as he got closer to her. She was sickly pale and sweating. Enjolras laid a gentle hand on her forehead, and winced. She had a high fever. 

“I cannot fucking believe this,” Grantaire muttered, ignoring Enjolras entirely. “First this, and then  _ Thenardier _ tries to pay me to  _ fuck _ her. I fucking-”

“It’s okay, ‘Taire,” she said. “At least I’m not pregnant anymore. And so what if that bungalow bunny is mad at you, you’re not a prostitute and she should know that.”

“Sure, whatever, but now you’re-” Grantaire’s voice broke. “You’re-”

“Dying?” Eponine said, a sad smile on her face. 

“No, but you’re hurt, and that’s not okay. I should have gone with you, I should’ve known the motherfucker was lying about the MD. I can’t believe I let this happen.” 

“I’m  _ fine, _ Grantaire, stop being so dramatic,” she said, and grimaced as she tried to readjust herself. “I would have gone no matter what. Nothing you could have done, and nothing you can do now.” 

“I still-”

The door opened, and Cosette stood there, looking too small and heartbroken to handle seeing Eponine, or  _ anyone _ like this. She had on a pink nightgown and her feet were bare, and her hair was pulled up into a messy bun so the pink in her cheeks and bloodshot eyes were bright and obvious on her face.

“Eponine,” Cosette said simply. There was a beat of silence, and suddenly, Eponine began to cry. 

Cosette rushed over and Grantaire and Enjolras backed up to give her room. Cosette wasn’t crying, but she looked close to it, and she sat on the bed and cradled Eponine’s head in her arms, shushing her quietly as she let out long, shaky sobs. Inside of Enjolras, something hurt so bad he felt like throwing up. This kind of thing wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to people like Eponine, and Cosette knew that. 

Enjolras looked over at Grantaire, who watched the pair of them curiously. 

“Enjolras,” Cosette said. “Go get Valjean.” 

He paused, still registering the words and all the implications behind them. “But-”

“You promised. When we first did this, you said that if anything went wrong, we would get Valjean. Go.” 

Perhaps it was the fact that she had called him by his proper name, or the savage, furiously protective look she had given him, but he spun around immediately and ran out the door. He passed Marius, who sat outside Eponine’s cabin, and ran down the hill directly towards their cabin.

Running down the hill, loose pieces of hair flying in the wind and fireflies twinkling around him he hadn’t noticed before- Enjolras felt free and wild. There were no huge fields to run through at home, there was nothing interesting ever going on, it was all small and cramped. He loved it out here, he realized. 

He rushed inside and ran up the stairs towards the room Fantine and Valjean shared. He hadn’t been in there yet, but he still knew where to go. He snuck around and gently shook Valjean awake. 

In the darkness, he looked peaceful, almost. Enjolras knew him better than that, though, so the second Enjolras touched him Valjean’s eyes flew open and his natural, disgruntled expression returned to his face. He slowly sat up and squinted at Enjolras. It was at that moment that Enjolras realized what he must look like to Valjean- covered in makeup and fully dressed long into the night, sweaty and on the verge of tears. 

“Valjean,” Enjolras whispered, “please come with me. Bring your doctor’s stuff.” 

He immediately stood, and reached to wake Fantine up. 

“No, don’t. It’s not Cosette, everything’s fine with us. Someone else needs your help.”

Valjean took a deep breath and nodded, put on some slippers and grabbed his first aid kit, and Enjolras led him out the door and towards Eponine’s cabin.

“As much as I trust you, you need to explain what’s going on,” Valjean said as they made their way towards the staircase that led up to the staff house. 

“One of the workers here, Eponine, she-” Enjolras cleared his throat and pushed down the dread rising in him. “She got pregnant and needed an abortion, so I convinced Cosette to give her the money to do it but the doctor wasn’t an actual doctor and she’s bleeding a lot. It’s bad. And she doesn’t have enough money for the hospital or insurance or anything and we need you.”

Valjean said nothing, and they approached Eponine’s house. Marius still sat on the porch, and moved over when he saw Enjolras coming with Valjean. 

“Enjolras, before we go in,” Valjean said, just before Enjolras opened the door. “If this  _ doctor _ really screwed something up bad or if she’s bled too much, there might be very little I can do. I’m not making any promises that she’s going to be alright, okay? I just want to make that clear.”

“But you’ll try?”

“Of course.”

Enjolras opened the door. It seemed that all of the dancers were inside and huddled around Eponine’s bed. Grantaire, Bahorel, and Feuilly all sat at the foot of the bed talking, occasionally glancing back at Eponine. Bossuet, Combeferre, and Joly all sat on the floor with their backs against the bed, all of them talking with their hands and worried expressions. Musichetta and Cosette were the only ones truly on the bed with Eponine, each of them on either side of her head like they were protecting her, and laughing softly about something. Everyone looked up as Valjean entered, with his serious disposition and first aid kit in hand, and went silent aside from Eponine’s soft panting. 

“Everyone out,” Valjean demanded in his Dad Voice, and within thirty seconds everyone was crowded on the porch outside. Enjolras first made sure that Cosette was okay, but she seemed fine talking to Musichetta and Combeferre. Grantaire sat alone on the side of the porch, smoking a cigarette and glaring at it like it had personally hurt Eponine. Enjolras knew that this probably wasn’t the best moment to talk to him, but Enjolras approached slowly anyways. 

“I’m not going to bite, you know,” Grantaire said after it had become increasingly obvious and awkward that Enjolras was scared to approach him. “Unless you’re into that, that is.”

Enjolras puffed and went over to sit beside Grantaire properly. He held out his cigarette to Enjolras, who declined it, and Grantaire muttered something about  _ straight edge _ before continuing smoking.

“Did Mrs. Thenardier actually come in and try to pay you to have sex with her?” Enjolras said. 

“Yeah, but I said no, of course. She’s hideous anyways, definitely not my type.”

“What is your type, then?”

“I think I have a thing for blondes who think they can change the world.”

Enjolras blushed and tried to think of something witty to say back, but the moment ended. Grantaire smoked his cigarette. 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Enjolras said quietly. 

“Whatever.”

“It’s  _ not _ .”

“ _ Drop it, _ Angel. I’m really not in the mood to argue right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

Grantaire paused. 

“For what?”

“For crossing lines with you, and trying to make you like me even though it’s obviously your choice and you have issues with it and I understand that and I should’ve just dropped it there, and I’m sorry for messing up nine times during the performance and stepping on your toes and not being able to pull off the lift and-”

Grantaire’s hand was on Enjolras’s face, his fingertips cool and light, and Enjolras shut up and looked over at Grantaire, who was squinting just a bit. Enjolras gulped. 

“It’s alright, Angel. Can I kiss you?”

Enjolras nodded helplessly. 

They leaned in, slowly but surely, and just as their lips met they heard the door to Eponine’s cabin fly open. They snapped away quickly and turned around. Valjean stood in the doorway, his expression calm, which was either a very good thing or a very,  _ very _ bad thing, and he waited a moment for everyone to look at him. 

“Angel, I need you to run down to our cabin and grab another one of my kits. It’s in the downstairs closet by the kitchen, it’s red and should be right at the front. Which one of you is  _ responsible _ for Eponine here?”

“I am,” Grantaire said, and every head whipped around to face him. Grantaire wasn’t the one who got Eponine pregnant, but also, Montparnasse wasn’t even there, and Valjean didn’t seem to be in the mood to wait around for him to show up. Valjean cleared his throat and gave him a hard glare.

“Please come inside,” Valjean said. “Angel, go get the kit.” 

Enjolras and Grantaire reluctantly got up, not daring to look at each other, and went their separate ways. Enjolras headed down the quiet hill and grabbed the kit from the closet, and began heading back up to Eponine’s cabin.

“Angel?” a voice said. Enjolras closed his eyes and sighed, and turned around to face Courfeyrac. “Angel! Hey, how’s it going? Missed you at dinner, what are you doing out and about? Oh, I doubt you’ll be interested, but there’s this party thing- something about cards- that all the old folks are at, it just started and I just  _ had  _ to get out. But, just in case you’re interested, I think Valjean was talking about going. As for me, there’s not much I want to do less than play cards with a bunch of old people. So, I was just headed this way to try and see if Javert was back here. What you up to?”

“Nothing, just,” Enjolras motioned half-heartedly to the red kit in his hand.

“Is someone hurt?”

“Yeah, one of the staff workers, I-”

“Is it Combeferre?”

“No.”

“Alright, thank God, because I would have had a heart attack right here and now. Do you know who it is, or how they got hurt?”

Enjolras wished that Courfeyrac would go away with every ounce of himself, but Courf still stood there, looking inquisitive in his pajamas. 

“No, I don’t know anything, Valjean won’t let me inside,” said Enjolras, which was at least half-true. 

“Does Javert know? Oh, he’s going to freak out if someone got seriously hurt, are you sure you don’t know who it is?”

This was going downhill very quickly. If he said no, then Courfeyrac would surely follow him up there and this wasn’t meant to be a public affair, or anything for Javert to know about. They didn’t need any more hardships after this. 

“Uh, no, I-”

“Oh,  _ Courfeyrac! _ ” what could have only been an angel squealed behind him. Enjolras turned to face Cosette as she floated down the steps towards Courfeyrac, and a smile lit up Courf’s face. 

“Darling Cosette! How are you?” Courfeyrac said. “Angel said someone got hurt?”

“Oh, Valjean just took care of it, everything’s fine. Musichetta just fell and scraped her knee and Valjean was out of gauze, but he found some in the back of his kit, so unfortunately your journey to get him another kit was for nothing, Angel. Anyways, Courf, I have  _ got _ to tell you about this song I found while doing the gardening track today, it was  _ amazing- _ ” 

Cosette led Courfeyrac by the arm away from the staff houses and back towards the safety of the guests’ cabins, and soon Enjolras was left alone with his kit and a sense of eternal gratitude for his sister. 

He raced up the steps and to Eponine’s cabin, where he found that only Marius, Musichetta, Feuilly, Bahorel, and Combeferre remained, all looking equally anxious and exhausted. Enjolras smiled weakly at them as he knocked on the door and let himself in. 

Grantaire was seated against the wall, staring off into the distance, as Valjean apparently was checking for Eponine’s vitals. Blood stained the sheets and Valjean’s gloves, and Eponine seemed to be asleep. 

“Valjean,” Enjolras said, walking up to him and handing him the kit. 

“Thanks,” said Valjean. He opened it and inside Enjolras saw gauze and a bunch of little scissors and other small metal things that looked like they belonged at a dentist’s office, and a needle and thread. 

“Are you having to stitch something up?” Enjolras asked. 

“Hopefully I can just stitch it up and be done with it, but I’m not sure how well I’ll be able to do it. Her blood pressure is really low so I’m not sure how much good it’ll do.” 

Enjolras watched Eponine for a moment, his heart wrenching.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Enjolras asked. 

“Yes, actually,” Valjean said. “Go back to the cabin and go to sleep, and stay away from the staff you’ve seemed to have made friends with. I don’t want you with people who get a girl pregnant, beg people for money, and send her off to a fake doctor for an abortion. Go.” 

Enjolras swallowed, turned around to look at Grantaire, and slowly walked out into the night air. Bahorel and Feuilly were gone, so only Combeferre, Marius, and Musichetta remained, all huddled together on the steps and dozing off. 

“Marius,” Enjolras said, gently shaking him awake.

“Hmm?”

“Come get me if anything goes wrong, alright? I’ll be at my cabin,” Enjolras said, and Marius yawned and nodded, and went back to leaning against Combeferre’s shoulder. Enjolras sighed, watching the three of them, and he went back to his cabin. 

When he arrived, only Cosette was there, pacing around their room tapping on her iPod. 

“Oh, thank god, is Eponine okay? He wouldn’t let me inside to see her, he just told me to come back here and go to sleep,  _ as if. _ ”

“I think-” Enjolras began, and sighed as he sat down on his bed. “I think she’ll be alright. She was asleep, and Valjean’s going to stitch up whatever’s bleeding, and I told Marius to come get us if something went wrong.” 

“Why do you think Grantaire said that he was the one  _ responsible  _ for Eponine? Why didn’t he just say it was Montparnasse?” 

Enjolras thought for a moment. “Because if word got out that Monty got some girl pregnant then Eponine would definitely get fired, and there’s less of a chance of that happening if Grantaire just takes the blame for it so Valjean would be less likely to tell Javert about it if he thought it was just between the two of them who aren’t even technically staff, than if it was one of  _ his _ staff getting involved, you know?”

“I guess… Yeah, Valjean probably would tell Javert if Monty or any of the actual  _ staff  _ was involved. If it’s just them, then yeah, it’s less likely. Still, it sucks for him.”

“Yeah, Valjean wasn’t happy to say the least. He said I wasn’t allowed to hang out with any of the staff ever again.”

“You’re going to see Grantaire later tonight, aren’t you,” Cosette said, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I should at least apologize for Valjean slandering him like that,” Enjolras reasoned.”Right?”

“Sure, whatever,” Cosette said, just as someone knocked on their door that led into the rest of the cabin.

“Cosette, can you get that? I’m taking a shower,” Enjolras said, grabbing some clothes and running into the bathroom before he had to talk to Valjean. Enjolras heard Cosette speaking to him outside and Enjolras quickly turned on the water and jumped in while it was still cold, doing his best to wipe all the makeup off his face and sweat out of his hair. 

By the time he got out of the shower, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants, Cosette was asleep and the night still felt alive, despite it being 2:16 when he checked the time, so he put on some shoes and he was gone. 

He could only guess that the cabin beside Eponine’s was Grantaire’s. Currently, soft music came from the walls and Enjolras could faintly smell cigarette smoke from inside. He steeled himself, and knocked. 

It took a moment for the door to open, and in that moment Enjolras prayed to whatever god might be out there to let this actually be Grantaire’s cabin, and thankfully he was right. Grantaire, messy and beautiful and himself, opened the door and looked down at Enjolras with bleary eyes. He didn’t have a shirt on, but neither did Enjolras, and all he had on was a pair of black jeans riding low on his hips.  _ God. _

“Can I come in?” asked Enjolras, and Grantaire nodded silently, stepping aside and shutting the door behind them. 

Grantaire’s room was an explosion. Piles of clothes beside half-finished paintings scattered through the majority of the room, and at least a dozen handmade wooden shelves and toys and mobiles and dartboards lined the walls. His bed was a single mattress pushed into the far corner, with a nightstand cluttered with alcohol bottles on it. Enjolras took a moment to take it all in, a small smile on his face. Grantaire watched him openly. 

“He said Eponine should be alright, and he’s done all he could. Musichetta’s staying in her cabin tonight to make sure she’s alright, and I just left and came back here after Musichetta kicked me out,” Grantaire said conversationally. 

“I’m sorry Valjean was such a dick to you,” Enjolras said, turning towards him and almost immediately regretting it. Grantaire’s gaze pierced him and he forgot what he was saying. He just let out a shaky sigh. 

“It’s alright,” Grantaire said. “What matters is that you came here anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You like me enough to ignore your father and maybe even get in trouble for me. How scandalous!” Grantaire teased, and Enjolras folded his arms over his chest. 

“I just came to apologize for him, and to thank you for tonight,” he continued, very aware of his arms and hands all of the sudden, and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. 

“No problem, Angel. You want a drink?” Grantaire asked, and Enjolras declined, of course. Grantaire took a swig of something amber-colored, and while Enjolras wasn’t paying attention, he turned on some music. It was the same soft kind of music Enjolras heard him listening to earlier, and Grantaire approached him with his hand extended. 

Enjolras took it and let Grantaire pull him close, and they slowly started dancing to the music. Grantaire was warm and he was humming along, and with his head pressed against Grantaire’s chest he could feel the vibrations. He sighed against his chest.

As the song ended, Grantaire pulled away just enough so Enjolras looked up at him, and Grantaire kissed him. 

This was different than it had been at the creek, this had no tenderness or uncertainty, it was just Grantaire’s hands in Enjolras’s hair and Enjolras’s nails digging into Grantaire’s back. Enjolras couldn’t stop smiling, which ruined how objectively good it was as a kiss, but he stopped when Grantaire bit down on his lip and pulled Enjolras even closer. 

Enjolras pulled away to breathe, and collect what remained of his thoughts, and look at Grantaire, breathing fast and light. He was smiling like he knew something that Enjolras didn’t, and he grabbed one of Enjolras’s arms and pulled him across the room towards his bed.

_ Oh god this is happening, _ was all Enjolras could think as Grantaire pushed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him, and began pressing hard kisses down Enjolras’s neck, stopping to run his tongue down the middle to the hollow of his throat, making Enjolras sigh and moan a little louder than it should have. 

He was breathing like he’d just run a marathon, and his hands were shaking as they ran through Grantaire’s hair. Grantaire moved down his chest, and the last of Enjolras’s coherent thoughts dissipated as he looked up at him through his eyelashes with a cheeky smile on his face as he pulled down the hem of Enjolras’s sweatpants with his teeth. 

\---

It was unspoken that Enjolras needed to go back to his cabin before the morning came, and that they both definitely needed to sleep, but Grantaire’s bed smelled like him and they were pressed together and Enjolras was drunk with the warmth and softness he felt all over. Grantaire was staring at him in the darkness, tracing suns and stars into Enjolras’s back with his fingertips, and Enjolras was half-asleep. Grantaire leaned forward to kiss just under Enjolras’s jaw softly, and it woke him up a bit and reminded him he had to go soon. He never wanted to leave. 

“Not yet,” Enjolras whispered as Grantaire kissed him lightly in a trail towards his lips. He wanted to live in this moment forever, immortalize it in his brain so no one could take it from him. He kissed Grantaire softly, both of them too tired to make it anything but lazy and tender. 

“Valjean probably wouldn’t be very happy to wake up and you’re gone, naked in bed with me instead of in the safety of your cabin,” said Grantaire, his mouth so close to Enjolras’s he could feel the heat against his bruised lips. 

“I could make something up,” said Enjolras. “Say I was with Eponine or something.”

“He’s a smart man, he’d probably know better.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras moaned. Grantaire was right, but he still didn’t want to hear it. Grantaire ran his fingers through Enjolras’s curls. Enjolras’s eyes fluttered closed. 

“Angel,” Grantaire said, and he scooted around in the bed. Enjolras didn’t respond. “Angel, come on.”

“No…” Enjolras whimpered, and all of the sudden Grantaire’s cold feet were pressed against Enjolras’s side. He yelped and curled up on his side. “Fuck you.”

“You gotta go, babe,” Grantaire said, removing his icicle feet from Enjolras’s side, and instead he curled up around Enjolras’s fetal position and pressed kisses to his exposed forehead. 

“Fine,” Enjolras groaned. “ _ Fine. _ ”

They both sat up, with all that pink light between them and warmth quickly fading. Grantaire faced him and smiled sleepily, and reached up to stretch and yawn. Enjolras found his sweatpants discarded on the floor, and he found his shoes and pulled them on, too. Grantaire watched drunkenly from the bed, still smiling that stupid dopey smile. 

“I’ll see you later,” Enjolras said, reaching over to kiss Grantaire one last time before he opened the door to the porch and stepped outside into the 5am air. 

Impossibly, on the path just before him, leading back down to the guests’ cabins, was none other than Mrs. Thenardier, wearing what appeared to be only a red silk robe and slippers. As he stepped out, she whipped around to face him, and scowled.

Enjolras slowly walked off the porch, and she shot him a menacing look. 

“I knew he was a fucking homo,” she spat, and Enjolras cringed back at the sudden harsh words. “No normal man would refuse money for sex. It doesn’t matter, anyways, but I wouldn’t expect that piece of shit drunkard to stick around long.” 

“What the fuck?” Enjolras said, in a very reasonable tone, he thought, but she just smiled and kept walking. Enjolras tried to calm down the hot anger boiling up inside him, and reminded himself that Mrs. Thenardier couldn’t tell Javert that she saw him walking out of Grantaire’s cabin without admitting that she was there, too. 

He stayed there until his hands stopped shaking and the urge to cry subsided, and headed back down the stairs towards his cabin.

When he walked inside, Cosette was fast asleep, her hair splayed out around her head like a halo. Enjolras smiled, remembering how she had distracted Courfeyrac and had been so generous to Eponine, and how much she loved music and doing makeup and everything about her. She was a fantastic sister. 

Enjolras collapsed into bed and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t stop smiling to himself. He liked Grantaire. He  _ really _ liked Grantaire. And Grantaire liked him too. 

The next thing he knew, Enjolras was awakened by a firm hand shaking his shoulder. He sat up, bleary-eyed and still in a daze, until he saw Valjean standing there with his too-calm expression, and his stomach dropped. 

Mid-morning light streamed into the windows, making Cosette squint as she sat up in bed. There are some times, when a tragedy strikes, that you know deep inside you what’s happened before anyone even tells you. 

Enjolras knew Eponine was dead before the words even left Valjean’s mouth. 

He explained it clinically, of course. Even as Cosette was crying and shaking her head like if she said  _ no _ enough it could change it, he explained calmly what had happened. 

“She bled out,” he stated simply. “She moved around too much in her sleep and the place that I had stitched up came open, where a bunch of veins are that take blood through the body, and she more than likely didn’t even wake up. It’s nobody’s fault, not the girl who was watching her, not any of us here, except Grantaire and that doctor he took her to.” 

“Papa, I-” Cosette said between sobs. She never called him Papa anymore. 

He sat down on the bed beside her and let her weep into his shoulder. Enjolras could do nothing but watch in detached numbness. All he could see what Eponine with her head tilted towards the sun, smiling because she was alive and she had a future she’d had to fight so hard for and it was so close. 

She had been so close to being who she wanted to be, to accepting herself and going to college and all she really wanted to do was help animals and become something better than she was.

Enjolras stood up, still staring at one spot on the carpet. Valjean and Cosette watched him. He had no idea what he was doing. He sat back down and dug his fingers into the comforter, until his fists were clenched and his arms shook. 

“Angel,” Valjean said. Enjolras did not look up, but he continued talking anyways. “I mean it, what I said about staying away from Grantaire. He got her pregnant, so it was his responsibility to make sure she went to a proper doctor, and he failed her in that, and now she’s dead because of it. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said. 

“Good. Now, get dressed, the both of you. It’s almost breakfast time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave kudos/comment !! thanks <3


	5. Chapter Five

By her posture and refusal to look anyone in the eyes, it was obvious that Valjean had told Fantine about everything that had happened the night before. It was hard to keep secrets from Fantine, anyways. Valjean simply looked tired, and Cosette had caked makeup on her face so it didn’t look like she’d been crying. All Enjolras had managed to do was pull on a shirt and let Cosette shepherd him to the main hall so they could eat together and at least pretend that this was normal. 

Nothing about this was normal. 

Combeferre served them, his eyes glazed over and voice almost too low to hear. Enjolras didn’t know what kind of relationship he and Eponine had, but considering he was one of the last people to leave last night, right along with Marius and Musichetta, they must have been close. 

Combeferre and Cosette shared a small smile, and Enjolras’s already hurting heart twisted inside him. 

Enjolras must have zoned out for a moment, because suddenly Javert Hugo and Courfeyrac were at their table. Cosette and Courfeyrac were talking and laughing about something, and Javert and Valjean were whispering about something. It was always  _ something. _ Something Enjolras wasn’t a part of, that he wasn’t allowed to know. He knew he should be angry, and try to do something about it, but he was tired beyond what he’d ever felt before. Courfeyrac waved to Enjolras, and he gave him a weak smile. 

“Hey, Angel, you okay?” asked Courfeyrac. “Javert ended up figuring out about what all happened, with Eponine and all that. It’s just awful, I know you guys were sorta close.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras said. “It’s weird to think about. Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure,” said Courfeyrac easily. “So, you know Mrs. Thenardier?”

Dread filled Enjolras’s stomach, but he nodded slowly. 

“Apparently she saw Grantaire steal Mr. Claquesous’s wallet while they were playing a card game at that old-folks party I told you about last night.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t even see Grantaire there at all, not even during dinner, and the whole thing started pretty late, so he could’ve done it once Valjean was gone. Anyways, grandpa’s totally gonna fire him, first for Eponine and now this.”

“No, he wasn’t down here,” Enjolras said, trying his best to put two and two together. Grantaire had been up there with Eponine and Musichetta most of the night, and then Enjolras was there with Grantaire after that, just after Musichetta had kicked him out of Eponine’s cabin. Right?

“Well, you weren’t up there at the staff houses the whole time, were you? Maybe he did it after you left and went back to your cabin after finishing up with Eponine, or whatever happened,” Courfeyrac said. “I don’t know, but if a guest with the kind of money Mrs. Thenardier is concerned about something, then it’d be insane for Javert to not try and investigate it and deal with the issue.” 

“But…” Enjolras said, but then he sighed and all of the fight left in him drained out. It was too late, and all this caring about Eponine and Grantaire and all of them hadn’t brought him anything good except sex while Eponine was bleeding out next door. He felt awful. Then, he spotted Mrs. Thenardier across the room, and something clicked into place. “When did she report this to Javert?”

“Just before breakfast, why?” Courfeyrac said. Enjolras glared over at Mrs. Thenardier, who just so happened to already be looking, with a cruel smile on her face. 

“Javert,” Enjolras said, steeling himself for what was to come. “Grantaire didn’t do it.”

“Excuse me?” Javert said, turning around to face him. With both him and Valjean staring at him like he’d grown a second head, his confidence wavered for a second,  but this was for  _ Grantaire,  _ Grantaire who had shown him kindness and stubbornness and laughter and pessimism and had shown Enjolras how unapologetically  _ himself _ he was. How willing he was to lay everything down for Eponine, how he’d cared for her and was so fiercely loyal and protective of her, like she was his sister. 

If Grantaire could be brave enough to be himself in front of the world, to do anything for the ones he loved even when he was convinced the whole world was against him, then Enjolras could do this. 

“Grantaire didn’t come down here at all last night,” Enjolras said. “I was up with him with Eponine until Valjean sent me home, and he stayed with Eponine and Musichetta until she kicked him out of her cabin.”

“What about after that?” Javert said. 

“He didn’t come down here afterwards, because he was with me last night.” 

Everyone went silent. The tension in the room was thicker than syrup. Tears sprang to Enjolras’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

“Why would Mrs. Thenardier accuse him, then?” Javert said after a pause that felt like it lasted a thousand years. Enjolras forced himself to breathe, despite his stomach being knotted and his hands shaking.

“She was up at the staff houses, too, this morning when I left his cabin to go back to my own. She was upset because she tried to pay Grantaire to have sex with her, and he refused, and instead had... “ Enjolras gulped, and closed his eyes, his shame burning him up. “And when she saw I was coming out from just having sex with him, she was jealous. She called us fucking homos and said that I shouldn’t expect Grantaire to be around much longer. And now she goes and accuses him of stealing someone’s wallet while he wasn’t even down here.”

“I... Alright,” Javert said, closing his eyes and rubbing his face. “Okay. I’ll ask Musichetta if this is true. Do you know what time you arrived?”

“Just after 2:15am, probably 2:18 to be exact,” Enjolras said, keeping his gaze exactly level with Javert so he wouldn’t have to look at Valjean or Fantine. 

“Are you sure about all this?” Javert asked. Enjolras swallowed down the lump in his throat, and nodded.

“Yes. I’m sure. Musichetta will say the same, and I bet if you check Mrs. Thenardier’s stuff she’ll have the stolen wallet, and not Grantaire. You can ask Grantaire, too, if that would help his case at all.”

“Alright,” Javert said, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you for telling the truth. I’m not going to make any promises about anything, but I’ll get to the bottom of this and serve justice where justice is due.”

And with that, he was gone, and Enjolras could no longer ignore Valjean and Fantine’s horrific expressions. Instead, he shoved waffles in his mouth as fast as he could, and Valjean and Fantine just stared at him. No one said anything. 

As soon as Enjolras was done, he got up and left. He was sure Valjean would find him, as Valjean had a knack for finding everything, but he needed a few moments at least to clear his head and decide what to say. 

He ended up at a gazebo in front of a small pond that he had seen but not yet explored. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that he was back at the creek with Grantaire, dancing over the water just before they both fell in. 

Enjolras sat at the edge with his feet dangling over, dangerously close to the water, and his reflection was all messed up, and  _ all _ of this was messed up. Mrs. Fucking Thenardier, Eponine dying, all of it. 

He kicked the water and his reflection disappeared into nothing but ripples

Some time passed. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there, hating himself and dreading Valjean’s wrath and Cosette’s pity. He wanted none of it, he wanted to be left alone for the rest of his life. And for a while, he was, until he heard footsteps behind him, undoubtedly Valjean about to murder him.

When he turned, Fantine stood there, smiling softly at him. She walked over and sat beside him, the tips of her sandals just grazing the water. She was warm next to him, her long hair grazing his arm and their hands almost touching.  He let out a small breath of relief. Fantine, he hadn’t even thought of. He could deal with her. 

“Hey, Enjolras,” she said. “How are you?”

“How do you think?” he said, frowning down at the water. He still felt like he was going to throw up from nerves. 

“Enjolras, you did the right thing,” Fantine said, which was the last thing Enjolras thought would leave her mouth. “Your heart was in the right place.”

“But I still shouldn’t have done it,” Enjolras said. 

“You can’t change anything now. Things aren’t as black and white as you’d like them to be. There were lots of options in this whole ordeal, and I believe you took the risks and chances you did because you knew that it was the right thing to do.” 

“I just wanted to help her,” he said quietly. 

“I know,” she said. 

“I’m not sorry about Grantaire, though.”

“I didn’t expect you to be.”

“Then what do you  _ want? _ What does Valjean want?”

“Enjolras, you are so infused with hope and optimism in the world, and whenever you’ve poured so much of that hope into something, it’s worked out for you in the end. Until now. It’s something I admire greatly about you, and I wish I had that kind of drive, but you still dedicated so much of yourself to her and this great cause to help her and now she’s gone and it all seems useless.” 

“So what?” said Enjolras darkly. “So  _ what? _ I can handle failure, I can handle  _ this _ just fine.”

“I recognize that you can,” Fantine said, “but I’m letting you know that it’s okay to fail at something and it’s okay to cry and scream over it, that it’s  _ natural _ . And I want you to know that even if it doesn’t always feel like it to you, Valjean and I care about you  _ so _ much, and you can come to us for anything. Cosette told me about why you were taking dance lessons all the time, and how much effort you put into yourself for virtually no reward. You worked yourself to death just because it was the right thing to do and you knew you could do it so you did. We are so  _ proud _ of you, Enjolras.” 

Enjolras bit the inside of his cheek to try to keep himself from crying, but his eyes were burning anyways. He stared down at the pond, watching Fantine’s reflection. 

“I know you don’t always feel completely included in this family, and I understand that as as much as I’d like to change that, I can’t change the way you feel. You can’t just stop needing some parental figure or support system, trust me. No matter how hard you try and separate yourself from us, we’ll be here and love you regardless of anything you do, no matter how far you push us away, you can always come back to us. And yes, Valjean is going to be pissed for a while that the night after he told you to never speak to Grantaire again, you snuck out and went to his cabin, and I spoke with him about it and we’ll see what Javert does, but we’re leaving and going back home on Sunday.”

“We’re leaving?” Enjolras said, wiping away stubborn tears as he looked up at her. 

“Yes. Valjean wanted to leave today but Cosette wanted to do this talent show thing on Sunday, so after that we’re leaving. And one more thing.”

“What?”

“Javert fired Grantaire. He went up to his cabin soon after you left, and while you were right about Mrs. Thenardier stealing the wallet and falsely accusing Grantaire of it, he still fired Grantaire for having  _ personal relations  _ with a guest,” she said, and began combing her hair with her fingers. 

“Has he left yet?” Enjolras asked. 

“I don’t think so, but you can’t go back up there,” Fantine said. “Valjean would kill me if he knew I let you go back up there. But if he stops by to say goodbye to you, then Valjean and I don’t have to know, and I’m sure he will.” 

They got up and returned to the cabin. Enjolras made himself breathe, and Fantine let him go in the side entrance straight to his bedroom alone. Unfortunately, Courfeyrac, Cosette, and surprisingly Combeferre were all seated on her bed. They all looked up and smiled as Enjolras came in, all teary-eyed and splotchy, and none of them said anything.

“Hey, Angel,” Cosette said. “Want me to do your nails?”

Enjolras shrugged, and climbed onto the bed between Courfeyrac and Cosette. It didn’t take long to get the message that Courfeyrac and Combeferre had exchanged some  _ words, _ seeing how close they were seated together and how Courfeyrac couldn’t stop smiling and looking at Combeferre. Cosette said nothing, but she gave a Look to Enjolras that said enough. 

Enjolras let himself pretend that everything was alright. He gossipped and laughed with the three of them, and he felt complete, somehow. 

He forgot about Grantaire until it was lunch time, and he still hadn't stopped by. Grantaire knew where his cabin was, and Enjolras decided to rationale that he was probably still packing. 

Still, as he, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Cosette walked up the hill towards the dining hall, he couldn't help but be nervous. He desperately wanted to run up to Grantaire’s cabin and see him, but he couldn't do that without tipping off Cosette, who would tell Valjean or Fantine, and then he'd be in real trouble. 

So he stayed with his group and ate lunch and avoided Valjean and Fantine best he could. Combeferre and Courfeyrac had picked up on what happened, or maybe Cosette told them, so they all sat at their own table while Valjean and Fantine ate with Javert a few tables down. 

Grantaire didn’t show up during lunch, either. 

Cosette took him outside, bidding Combeferre and Courfeyrac goodbye, and she led him to the garden. She hummed some song Enjolras didn’t recognize, and cicadas buzzed in the distance. Enjolras still felt disconnected and fuzzy, like he wasn’t quite there, but it had gotten considerably better since that morning. Taking deep breaths of the mid-June air helped, and Cosette’s hand in his, and the sun on his face. 

The garden was a tiny thing, filled to the brim with flowers and herbs Enjolras didn’t know the names of and tomatoes, all leading to a tree right in the center. Cosette took him through the tiny metal gate that enclosed the whole thing and led him to the tree. 

Underneath it was someone Enjolras had never seen before, reading a novel the size of a brick with most of their hair tucked into a huge beach hat, with the exception of a few orange strands falling over their face. They looked up as Enjolras and Cosette approached. 

“Hey, Jehan,” Cosette said, offering them a small wave. Jehan looked up and a smile lit up their freckled face. 

“Hey, Cosette. Is this your brother?” Jehan said. 

“Yep, Angel himself. Angel, this is Jehan, they run the gardening track here. We’re leaving after the talent show on Sunday, and I wanted to make sure you two met each other.” 

“Bahorel mentioned you,” Enjolras said.

“All good things, I hope,” Jehan said, grinning. “Have a seat.”

Enjolras and Cosette sat on either side of Jehan, and Enjolras felt a sense of quiet serenity come over the three of them. He felt the bark digging into his back through his shirt, the soil at his fingertips and the breeze in the shade, the smell of earth and every few minutes, Jehan would flip the page in the book they were reading. 

“She would have liked this book,” said Jehan after some time. Enjolras opened his eyes and looked over at them. Jehan had taken off their beach hat and unveiled a loose braid of bright orange hair, and ears and neck coated in freckles. Enjolras wished he had freckles, but maybe not as many as Jehan did. 

“Eponine?” Cosette said, too far on the other side of the tree for Enjolras to see. 

“Yes. It’s a collection of folklore and fairytales from across the world. There’s one here about the tale that inspired Snow White. It’s not as happy as Snow White, of course, but it’s a very old story. She had a poster of Snow White up in her cabin.”

“Did you know her well?” Enjolras asked.

“Well enough. And I know Montparnasse well enough to know that he feels awful about the entire ordeal, even if he doesn’t show it.”

“I haven’t even seen him today,” Enjolras said. “I hate him. I never want to see him again.”

Jehan said nothing, and neither did Cosette, so Enjolras’s angry words were left there in the sun for all of them to dwell on.

“He’s made mistakes, and I’m not asking you to forgive him or anything, but I want you to know he wasn’t always like this.”

“It’s not fair that Grantaire gets punished for all of this and he doesn’t.”

“I know.”

“None of this is fair.”

“I know, Angel.”

Enjolras stood up.

“Cosette, I’m going to see him. If you tell Valjean or Fantine I’ll break your iPod.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed.

“Would too. I’ll be back.”

“Angel, wait-” Cosette said, as Enjolras ran from the garden as fast as he could. 

He raced across the open field towards the staff cabins, feeling as if he was flying. The wind pulled ripples from his shirt as it pushed him towards the stairs. He took the steps two at a time, finding one last well of hope deep within him, that maybe this could all be alright. Maybe Grantaire would be up there, waiting for him, his arms open and safe. He would tell Enjolras that everything would be alright, despite it all. Enjolras would be happy if he could have even just that.

He approached Grantaire’s cabin confidently, knowing that Grantaire would be in there, alive and safe if nothing else, and they could say goodbye. That was all he wanted- just to say goodbye. 

He ended up knocking three separate times before opening the door, his hands shaking terribly. And when he saw what was inside, he began to cry.

There was nothing left. All of the posters, all of the bottles and clothes were gone. Nothing remained of him- not even his smell. 

A stripped down bed, a nightstand beside it, a dresser, a mirror, a desk- these were the only things left in this lonely room. 

Enjolras wept, letting himself collapse onto the bed he had shared with Grantaire just the night before. He was impossibly hot, and breathing too fast, and choking on his own snot, but there wasn’t a thing he could do. And that was the worst thing about it- he’d never wanted anything more badly than this, and it still wasn’t enough. 

Everything had fallen apart, and it was completely his fault. And, still, there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even apologize to Grantaire for fucking his whole life up. There was no second chance- no happy ending. 

Enjolras cried for an indeterminate amount of time, before frantically beginning to search through the room for any sign of Grantaire. He was beginning to slip, and he knew it, but he needed  _ something. _ Surely, there was something left. Some proof that all of this was real. 

And Enjolras found his proof hidden underneath the bed, forgotten and lost. A half-full box of cigarettes with a lighter inside, in the shadows under the bed. Ravenously, Enjolras grabbed it, and shoved a cigarette between his trembling lips. He lit the other end on fire and breathed in with it, like he’d seen Grantaire do so many times. It hit his lungs and came out with a few stuttering coughs. The coughs continued into sobs, and Enjolras just sat there, cigarette clenched between his fingers, head bowed and knees shaking, all alone. 

Eventually, Cosette came. She saw that the door was open and headed inside, letting out a soft sigh as she saw how empty the room was. 

She sat beside Enjolras as he slowly smoked the rest of the cigarette he held, even though he knew she hated the stench. Cosette played with his hair, being extra gentle, and Enjolras let himself relax. 

“I hate to see you so sad over some boy, Angel,” Cosette said after a long time. 

“He’s not just some boy,” Enjolras croaked. “It’s Grantaire.”

“I know.”

“I love him.”

“I know. He loves you too.”

“Then why did he leave? He didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I don’t know, love. Maybe it hurt too much.”

“Bullshit,” Enjolras spat. Then, “Bullshit,” he said again, quietly this time. “I’ve never loved anything like I love him.”

“There will be other loves, Angel, even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.” 

Enjolras let out a series of sobs so loud they made his stomach hurt. “I don’t want him to leave.”

“He’s already gone. He’s already gone.”

\---

Enjolras did not leave his room until the Sunday that he was supposed to leave. 

He’d finished off all his books, and Cosette had kept everyone away by telling them he’d caught the flu and could hardly get out of bed. He was beyond lonely, but Cosette’s return every hour or so kept the sorrow at bay. 

That afternoon, Enjolras sat in the corner of the room, near the stage but still out of the way, and kept his head down. The room was alive with laughter and idle chat as the guests enjoyed each other’s companies. Fantine sat with him, and she didn’t pressure him to talk to her, which he appreciated more than anything. Cosette and Courf were off in the middle of the room. 

Enjolras realized that this was the room that he first saw Grantaire in. He remembered that first night- with Courfeyrac, and Mrs. Thenadier, Javert and Marius. 

And the dancing. Of course, the dirty dancing. 

He remembered feeling so strange and emotional about it all- about this new place, full to the brim with possibility. Unfortunately, that possibility had ended in this utter despair. But it was better to have a happy story with a sad ending than no story at all. 

Valjean hadn’t said a word to Enjolras for several days now, and perhaps that alienation was also contributing to Enjolras’s grief. Enjolras watched him from the table, only hearing Snow Patrol’s  _ Chasing Cars _ blasting through Cosette’s borrowed headphones/iPod combo. She’d recommended it to him, and he hadn’t been able to play anything else. However, as he watched Valjean, he took out  a headphone as none other than Montparnasse approached him, shaking his hand as if they were all buddy-buddy. 

Valjean had been holding an envelope in his hand since they’d gotten there, and upon the sight of Montparnasse, he handed the envelope over with a smile. Montparnasse laughed and accepted the envelope with a few more words, but as he said them, Valjean’s entire disposition changed. A moment ago, he had seemed completely at ease and friendly with Montparnasse. Then, with just a few words, Valjean’s face had transformed into a stormcloud. He snatched the envelope back from Montparnasse with disgust, and marched back towards Enjolras and Fantine, plopping down with a thud.

“What happened?” Fantine asked. Valjean paused, taking a few deep breaths.

“Did you know it was him?” Valjean said to Enjolras- and then it clicked. Montparnasse had told Valjean that it was him, and not Grantaire, that had gotten Eponine pregnant and refused to help her. 

“I did,” Enjolras said, his voice croaking. 

“Why did Grantaire take the blame?”

Enjolras paused. “I don’t know.”

“Angel, I’m sorry,” Valjean said, and they finally met each other’s eyes. “I didn’t know.”

“And now it’s too late,” Enjolras said, and Valjean visibly cringed back at the statement. He tried to say something else, but Fantine but a hand on his shoulder, and he stopped. 

“I can’t believe he’s taking his dance, though,” Valjean grumbled.

“What?” Enjolras asked.

“Montparnasse is taking the last dance of the season- the one that’s usually Grantaire and Eponine’s. He’s going to make it a  _ tribute _ to her. How can he stand himself.”

A sharp pang of fresh anger made its way to Enjolras’s heart, but he let none of it show. It was too late, and they would be leaving later that day and heading home, and Enjolras would never have to return here again. He could go on with his books and Peace Corps and dreams of travel and find his new loves that Cosette had told him about. He only had to suffer a little while longer, and then he could go. 

But, for now, he had to suffer through the talent show. 

It was mostly the kids that participated, but some of the staff participated. Enjolras noticed that none of the dancers did anything. 

In fact, he hadn’t seen them at all. 

Cosette and Courfeyrac sang a song and danced together, which was surprisingly good. It was one of the songs Enjolras had heard on Cosette’s iPod before- Since U Been Gone- and they made it work well. They got a standing ovation. As they took their seats, Montparnasse took the stage. 

Cosette collapsed into her chair beside Enjolras with a winded grin. She shot her eyebrows up at him and smiled, and he gave her a thumbs-up in turn. Courfeyrac had gone backstage- probably to find Javert- and the room was silent as Montparnasse walked towards the mic. He grabbed it and set it up near the keyboard as Enjolras glared. 

He looked out into the audience, his dark hair flopping over his sad-looking eyes, and he played a single G note on the keyboard. 

“Oh my god,” Cosette said. “He’s not actually-“

“ _ When I was… a young boy… my father… took me into the city… to see a marching band. _ ”

Enjolras had heard this song on the radio before, but he had no idea what it was. 

“What is it?”

“My Chemical Romance, dummy. It’s this super emo band, I cannot  _ believe _ he’s actually singing it. This is hilarious,” she said, but she was not laughing. 

He continued with the dirge for a few more minutes, eventually standing up and completely rocking out to the sound of his own voice. It was painfully obvious no one in the room knew this song, nor did they understand it, especially not Enjolras. Cosette hid behind her hands and sank back in her chair. 

As he finished, he looked up with a strange half-smile, and there was some scattered applause. By the look on his face, it wasn’t nearly as much as he was expecting. He pursed his lips and walked offstage abruptly, and Enjolras smiled for the first time since Grantaire had been around. It was a small victory, but even a bit of justice served to Montparnasse was good to see. 

Javert walked onstage, smiling brightly to the audience. “Hello, everybody! As we finish up this season’s talent show, I want to invite all of the staff on stage to sing the Hugo’s Paradise Theme Song. Come on up, everybody!” 

The staff all made their way to the stage and stood in a single-file line, facing the audience as the light reflected the sweat and oil on all of their faces. Enjolras felt awfully bittersweet about the whole thing, but it was done. Again, none of the dancers were there, and it was obvious that there were some people missing. Enjolras scanned the room one last time, but there was no sign of them in the dark dinner hall. He turned back around and watched as the staff began to sing. 

Enjolras folded his arms and let himself daydream while they sang, praying it would be over soon. He felt tired like he had never felt before. 

And then, his eyes focused back on the room, and someone was standing in front of him, on the other side of the table. A handsome, familiar, impossible face. 

“Nobody puts Angel in a corner,” Grantaire said, smiling confidently. “Come on.” Grantaire extended his hand to Enjolras, and he took it, and Grantaire led him to the stage. Valjean and Fantine stood up instinctively, but there was nothing they could do.

This was a dream. It had to be. All of the dancers were there, dressed in their dancing gear, and Grantaire had those tight jeans on and Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh to himself. Grantaire looked over at him as they headed up the stairs and onto the stage. 

By that time, everyone had noticed the rest of the staff and Grantaire, and was staring at them in shock. The song came to a screeching halt as Grantaire pulled the mic away from the middle of the stage, and all of the staff took a step back, (except for Courfeyrac, who was immediately beside Combeferre.) 

Grantaire looked out into the audience, behind the shining lights, and to Enjolras he looked like an angel. Enjolras felt like he was floating, he was so giddy. He has no idea what Grantaire was doing here or why they were taking over the stage, but he didn’t care. His hand was in Grantaire’s, so he was happy. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as Grantaire spoke.

“Sorry about the disruption, folks. But I always get the last dance of the season. This year, somebody told me not to. So I’m gonna do my kind of dancing with a great partner, who’s not only a terrific dancer, but somebody who’s taught me that there are people willing to stand up for other people, no matter what it costs. Somebody… who’s taught me…” Grantaire looked over at Enjolras, smiling nervously. “About the kind of person I want to be. Enjolras.”

Enjolras beamed at Grantaire, and he saw Valjean stand up in the audience. Then, Fantine said something to him, just quiet enough for Enjolras not to hear, and he sat back down. The dancers cleared off the stage, leaving Enjolras all alone up there, blushing under the spotlight. Then, the lights went out, and he could hear shuffling backstage. Enjolras looked around, wondering what he should do, before catching Grantaire’s eye just as music began to play. 

The song was Enjolras's Summer Anthem:  _When You Were Young_ by  _The Killers,_  which Enjolras felt was very appropriate. But Enjolras wasn’t focused on the song at all. Grantaire motioned for Enjolras to come to him with a single finger, and Enjolras abided, as Grantaire slipped his hands down to Enjolras’s hips. Enjolras grabbed at his muscles, and as the song continued, Grantaire led Enjolras into a deep, swooping dip. Enjolras smiled at Grantaire, and he smiled back. 

And so, they danced. 

He looped his arm up above Grantaire’s head, while his hand brushed down Enjolras’s side, and they shared a tender moment before Grantaire smirked, and twisted out Enjolras into a long spin across the stage as the music took off. They danced in the same style that they had danced together all those nights ago, and Grantaire held his hand and didn’t let go. At first, it was just a simple two-step, but Enjolras knew as soon as Grantaire changed it what he was going for. The lights twinkled above him as giddiness flowed through Enjolras’s every cell. 

The moves got more complicated, but Enjolras only grew more confident in his abilities as the crowd began to cheer. And then, as the chorus began, Grantaire pulled him close, and they stood like that for a minute, just inches away from each other, a sense of wonder and joy in Grantaire’s eyes. 

And then, they continued. Grantaire led him through all the dances that were taught to him the past few weeks, all with a calm sense of confidence about him that made Enjolras elated. The spotlight fixed itself on them as Grantaire grinded against Enjolras, as elegant as grinding could be. Suddenly, a new burst of cheers emitted from the crowd. Enjolras looked out there to see the rest of the dancers, dressed their best, dancing to the music. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were holding hands and grinning up at them, when Grantaire kissed Enjolras’s hand, and suddenly leapt off the stage. The crowd gasped and cheered as he flew through the air dramatically, and Enjolras threw his head back in laughter. Grantaire looked back at him, smiled, and began doing his own thing on the floor below. Enjolras watched giddily as Grantaire did elaborate dances simply to show off, slowly moving through the (now wildly cheering) crowd towards the other dancers, which met him in the middle, before he looked back at Enjolras again. 

And then, Grantaire led all of the dancers back towards the stage, slowly drifting their way over to Enjolras, all in-beat. The lights were going wild and everyone was staring at Enjolras, but he didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed at all, because Grantaire was there. 

Grantaire looked expectantly at Enjolras, who nodded. Musichetta and Bahorel rushed up to the stage, and elegantly helped Enjolras down onto the ground floor, and Enjolras flew towards Grantaire, and up into the air he went, just as the beat dropped. 

And they were doing the lift. The lift that Enjolras had failed at so many times, the one Grantaire had been so determined to teach him back in that creek. Grantaire’s hands were firm around his waist as he lifted his arms up carefully, and he shone with happiness. The crowd screamed with enthusiasm, as Grantaire slowly let him down, and Enjolras giggled as he wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s shoulders, and kissed him sweetly. Enjolras couldn’t help but glance over at Valjean, Fantine, and now Cosette, all of whom were smiling (or, at least, in Valjean’s case, Not Frowning. Which was a victory in this case.) 

Eventually, they had the whole crowd dancing, and Enjolras saw Courfeyrac and Combeferre kiss, and Musichetta, Feuilly, and Bahorel all danced together somehow, and Valjean and Fantine danced and Cosette danced all by herself happily, a few tears streaming down her face, but a wide smile on her lips. 

After a few moments, Grantaire began leading Enjolras out the door, but before they could get out, Valjean approached them. 

“I know you weren’t the one who got Eponine in trouble,” he said to Grantaire. There was a pause as Grantaire took this in.

“Yeah,” Grantaire said, squeezing Enjolras’s hand tighter. 

“When I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong.”

There was another awkward pause before Valjean turned his gaze to Enjolras, who instantly blushed. Not out of shame, but out of being so suddenly exposed to someone he looked up to. 

“You looked wonderful up there,” he said, smiling genuinely. Enjolras’s face broke into a smile, mirroring Valjean’s, and Enjolras reached out his arms and hugged his father. Meanwhile, the crowd continued to dance jubilantly. 

The evening ended with Enjolras in Grantaire’s arms, still dancing, still so full of joy, and still completely in love with each other. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! let me know what you think!!

**Author's Note:**

> please remember to kudos/comment if you enjoyed! thanks!


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